The Owl and the Pussycat
by BarbaraChilde
Summary: New York, Columbia and Barnard, 1928.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N Hi again. I can't get this idea out of my head. Have a vague idea of where it's going, but, I must say, the best impetus for taking something further is to post it. And to hopefully get some of your feedback!**

**Completely AU. Forgive me if I get geographical, historical and other details wrong, I have never set foot in NY, let alone the US (as much as I'd like too!) and there is only so much online research will tell me. **

**And of course the characters belong to Cecily and etc. Not me.**

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><p><em>New York, Columbia University, 1928<em>

Dan stood motionless on the cobblestones, feeling disoriented, an island in the midst of the bustle around him. He scanned the map he held in his hands once again. The building on the right was where he should be going, he was sure, but the mass of people between him and it seemed endless. A group of confident looking juniors jostled past him, so he stepped back heavily, attempting to avoid them.

"Ow! You oaf! Get off my foot."

He started forward and turned to the voice. The eyes that met his were as dark as his own, and scowling. Glowing red bow lips and sooty lashes against milk white skin. Dan blinked; he'd never seen anyone wear so much makeup during the day. He'd never seen someone so fiercely put together.

Her face took on an even more irritated expression and she snapped. "Are you an imbecile? Do you not speak?"

Dan held up his hands in apology. "Sorry! I didn't know you were there."

She jabbed him in the chest with one manicured finger. "Well, look where you're going! You've probably broken my toe, not to say ruined my shoe. These are Perugia!"

He looked down at her petite pair of camel suede and chocolate velvet buckled heels. Sure enough, there was a dusty heel print, just the size of his own, marked on the exquisite toe of her shoe.

Dan smiled, trying to beguile her. "Look, I really am sorry. I'm sure they'll clean up."

Her eyebrows snapped together, scornfully. "What would you know?"

"I could buy you a new pair if they don't…"

The girl's face changed from disgust to disbelief and back again. "Have you any idea how moronic you sound? I told you, these are Perugia. And they were handmade for me!" She looked him slowly up and down, taking in his tired travelling attire and worn bags. "I doubt you could even afford the buckles, even if we were in Paris."

Dan's already short patience wore thin. He thrust his hands into his pockets, giving into his annoyance. "Well, what the hell were you doing wearing them here, today, if they're so irreplaceable? You know, the considerable likelihood of crowds and dust and the other inconveniences of life."

Her glowering brows flew up under the brim of her close hat and her jaw dropped. "Oh! If I'd known it was going to be filled with lumbering philistines, like you, I wouldn't have come here at all! Get out of my way!"

Dan stepped aside before she could walk through him and he stood and watched in astonishment, as her small person pushed her way determinedly through the crowd, until she was lost to sight. He shook his head in incredulity. What a girl like that would be doing on campus, he could only wonder. Probably seeing off a brother or a boyfriend. He hoisted his bags onto his shoulders and began to pick his way through the crowd toward Hartley Hall.

He eventually found his small room. The scholarship funds that would support him during his studies wouldn't stretch to one of the larger rooms, but at least he didn't have to share. His minimal collection of clothing looked lonely in the closet and it took him no time at all to unpack his smalls. The desk he took more care with, laying out his fountain pens and stationary and lining his favourite books up on the one shelf. It was mournfully inadequate. He left the remaining books in his small trunk, pushing it under the narrow bed.

Dan sat down on the one chair, listening to the shouting voices drifting up from the south field, thinking briefly about heading down to join the throng. Or going to wash off the grime of his travels, or at least writing to his father as he had promised, to let him know he'd safely arrived. Instead, he pulled out his notebook and picked up a pen, meditatively testing the nib on the clean page, and began to jot down his impressions of his first day at Columbia University.

_xoxoxoxoxox_

Blair nearly turned around and walked out of her room in Hewitt hall in disbelief. This was where she was meant to spend the next 9 months? It wasn't even the size of her closet at home, and she had to share it. She cursed her mother under her breath for refusing to allow her to set up in an apartment on the Upper East Side, with Dorota, her childhood nurse, playing chaperone. She could hear Eleanor's sharp tones still.

"_No respectable young lady can afford to look fast, darling…" _

"_But Mother, you still have the apartment there. It's empty. Dorota can look after me perfectly."_

"_Blair, I have no faith in Dorota's ability to chaperone you properly. It's Hewitt Hall or nothing. The housemistress there tells me their girls are kept to a strict curfew. Which is exactly what you need after the merry chase you're been leading me on." _

Blair had been raised in New York, but when her mother's fashion label expanded, she had moved with her parents to France. For the summers anyway, the rest of her time had been spent in select finishing schools in Switzerland, in the middle of nowhere. On her final graduation from Institut Villa Mont Choisi, she had joined her mother in Paris. It had only taken Blair a few indiscretions in Montmartre to get Eleanor to agree to send her back home to attend college. Barnard wasn't the most glamorous, but at least it was in Blair's beloved New York.

She was fed up to her back teeth with needlework, deportment, elocution and conversation classes (she could have taught the mistress a thing or two in that department). The language and literature lessons had been the only things she had enjoyed, but…oh…to get away from the dry old classics and to be able to sink into some modern works. To be able to discuss them, rather than just read them furtively. She had had to hide the Lawrence's and Fitzgerald's she had acquired, from the finishing school's housemistress, on threat of confiscation. To be able to attend the theatre; go to the movies; talk about modern art; openly talk about anything at all… Blair felt her spirits begin to rise again, she was here, away from her mother and private schools and she could do anything she wanted, curfew or not.

Her trunks had arrived, taking up nearly the whole floor space of the room. Blair took a seat on one of them and raised her foot, disconsolately inspecting the damage wreaked on her hapless shoe. The curly haired lackwit had ruined the pale leather. No Dorota to fix it, or even to unpack her trunks, although she suspected that not even the contents of one of them would fit in the pitiful closet space allocated to her.

She wondered what kind of to-do her roommate would raise about the amount of space her luggage took up, when she finally arrived. One Miss S. Van Der Woodsen of New York City. Blair couldn't imagine why anyone would come and stay in this miniature hell if she had somewhere else to stay in Manhattan. A complete dowdy, no doubt, just like all the other residents she had seen, with ugly hats, bad teeth and sagging stockings.

A ripple of laughter interrupted her thoughts. She looked up to see an ethereal blonde at the door, golden hair forming a halo around her head in the light. Blair recognised the dress the girl wore she wore as current season Lanvin (she had wanted the garment herself and bemoaned the fact that it didn't suit her colouring) and her cream leather shoes rivalled her own. And she was pretty, too pretty… Blair felt a pang of insecurity.

The girl's deep blue eyes took the sea of trunks, bags and hatboxes, blinking in amusement. "It appears we have a small problem."

Blair's lips twitched. "Small is the word. The facilities here are infinitesimal. Miss S. Van Der Woodsen, I presume?"

"Serena, but call me S if you wish. Serena is a mouthful. You must be Miss B. Waldorf."

"The B is for Blair."

Before Serena could open her mouth to reply, a porter appeared behind her. "Where do you want this lot, Miss? The rest is on its way up."

"There is a small space there, my good sir." She handed him a generous tip. "Leave the rest outside the door."

He smiled admiringly at the blonde and did as he was bid. Serena fluttered her lashes at him. "You couldn't tell me if there was a trunk room we could get dibs on, dear man? You see we're in a bit of a bind."

The man looked around at the array of luggage scattered around the room. "There is, but, Miss, there's a limit on storage, you ladies are going to have to send some things home."

Blair stood up, removing her hat, a white hand smoothing her sleek dark crop and the man's eyes widened. She smiled slowly at him. "I couldn't possibly send this all back to Paris. Surely, there must be something you can do to help us?"

He stuttered incoherently. Serena winked at Blair and moved closer to the flustered porter, her fingers playing with the long beads around her neck. "We really need your help. We can make it worth your while."

He shook his head determinedly, his face flushing. "Miss, I can't."

Serena stepped over a hatbox to the trunk he had placed on the floor. She unlocked it, retrieving a flat pint bottle filled with viscous amber fluid. "Here, I bet you haven't seen this for a while. The finest Irish whisky and I can make sure you get one of these a fortnight, if you'll help us…unless you'd prefer cash?"

The bottle finally distracted the man from gazing at the two girls. "Oh, but I couldn't, Miss."

Serena tilted her head. "Well, then, what about one a week?"

He looked suspiciously at her. "But, Miss, you can't...the prohibition… it's illegal."

Blair's demeanour changed instantly from purring kitten to spitting cat. "Yes, so it is. And if you say anything about this to anyone, I'll tell the Housemistress that you were impertinent. Do you know who I am?"

He shook his head again. "N...no."

She narrowed her eyes at him, warningly. "Well, I can make sure you're fired if you dare even breathe a word of it."

"But, Miss, I'll be fired if anyone finds out I've given you extra space." The man's face cringed in fear.

She rolled her eyes at him, mockingly. "Well then, it's simple, make sure no one finds out."

He nodded his head, worry clear on his face. "There's some a room on the 3rd floor, you can store some trunks there, but you can only go there when I tell you it's clear."

Blair glared at him. "I'm sure you can do better."

"I'm sorry, Miss, I'll see what else I can find, but at this notice, it's the only thing I can think of." He shot several glances at the bottle still held in the other girl's hands.

Serena smiled sweetly at him and pushed the bottle toward him. "Here, take it. What's your name?"

"Vanya, Miss."

"Vanya, you look after us and we'll look after you." She winked conspiratorially at him. "Put the rest of my trunks up in your storeroom while we sort this lot out and then come back in an hour or so and you can move the rest."

He shuffled toward the door after concealing the bottle in his waistcoat. Serena shut the door firmly behind him. "Well, that certainly is less than ideal, but it will do, until we work out something else. Your suit, it's Chanel, no? I can't wait to see what else you have in your trunks! It's a pity I'm so much taller than you, otherwise we could have swapped."

Blair blinked rapidly at the thought of letting anyone share her Chanel. "Yes…a pity… And your Lanvin…divine."

Serena took a seat on one of the beds. "I know, beautiful isn't it, Mother took me to Paris for the summer." She raised her skirt a little to reveal a garter holding a hipflask. "I think we both deserve a little house warming drink, although keeping Vanya supplied is going to dent into my personal stash. I'll have to tell my step-brother Charles, to increase my supply." She found a tooth glass on the desk and began to fill it.

"No, don't use that filthy thing. I have something much better." Blair opened a trunk, flinging a few dresses onto the bed, before she located what she wanted. "Here." She passed Serena two heavy crystal tumblers after unwrapping then from the linen in which she had stored them.

"My, B, you have such foresight. I didn't even think to bring my own linen. The stuff here is guaranteed to be ghastly."

Blair hesitated. Her monogrammed, satin weave, Egyptian cotton sheets were essential to her ease. "I have a spare set, you can use them if you wish."

"You are too marvellous!" She grinned with infectious glee and Blair felt a return smile spread across her own face. Serena passed her a glass and they toasted each other, the liquor scalding a path down Blair's throat. She wrinkled her nose as she caught her breath. "We'll need a soda canister."

Serena laughed. "Well, that I did bring. It appears we are perfectly balanced." She stood up. "Here, come to the mirror, I want to look at us."

Blair obliged and stood up, walking over to the mirror and standing beside the taller girl. Their faces peered back at them, all contrast. Sleek dark crop against sun streaked honey blonde radiance. Velvet dark pansy eyes countered cornflower blue. Ivory translucence against golden sun kissed limbs.

"Oh, it's better than I hoped!"

Blair couldn't help but smile again at Serena's excited words. She looked ruefully at her pale skin compared to the other girl's complexion. "I wish I could tan like you, I just go red and peel."

Serena widened her eyes. "Oh no, B, your skin is perfect. We are perfect. Look at us! And we are going to have so much fun!"

_xoxoxoxoxox_

Dan still found the layout in Hartley Hall confusing. Large and small rooms seemed to be arranged with little discrimination. Dan's tiny room was squeezed in next to a large double, which by all appearance housed a single occupant. Interesting smells came consistently from under the door but it wasn't until several weeks of classes had passed that he met his elusive neighbour.

Dan had discarded his jacket and waistcoat and was sitting in his shirtsleeves at his desk, engrossed in his reading, when a brief knock at the door heralded the arrival of an artfully dishevelled Adonis, wearing a cream linen suit.

"Hello? Anyone home?"

Dan stood up slowly from his desk, looking appraisingly at the intruder. "Uh…hi there."

"Good, you're here." The golden haired young man smiled winningly at him. "I'm your neighbour, Nate Archibald."

"I'm Daniel Humphrey...Dan."

"You know you'd really be helping me out if you'd lend me a pen."

"Uh…I guess I can...why not?" Dan looked down at his fountain pens, trying to decide which was the one he could do with the least. They were each like an old friend, adjusted to his penmanship. He passed his newest, least comfortable one over.

"Gee, thanks, I have a paper due tomorrow." Nate's grin grew wider. "You wouldn't happen to have any paper, too?"

Dan felt stunned for a moment and then burst out laughing. "I think I do. Can I help you with anything else?"

Nate paused for a moment. "Are you taking Professor Hinckley's journalism class?"

Dan cocked his head. "Yeah…I am. Are you? I haven't seen you there."

"I've found it hard to get to some of the classes…" Nate's amiable smile spread across his features once more. "I couldn't have a loan of your class notes, could I?"

A mirrored smile grew on Dan's face; the charm of the man was undeniable. "You can borrow them all, but I draw the line at lending you the actual paper I just finished myself."

Nate chuckled. "I guess that would be asking to much." He took the proffered notes from Dan's hand. "I really appreciate this…Dan…I'll bring it all back to you when I'm finished and then you must come have a drink with me." He held out his hand in a friendly gesture.

Dan shook it in his own and nodded back at him. "Ok…thanks…I will."

"Well, I gotta go and get on with this." Nate saluted, closing the door on his way out.

Dan scratched his head at the insouciance of his visitor and then sat back at his desk to find his place in the book he had been previously absorbed. He had just re-established the rhythm of his reading when another knock disturbed him.

"Hey, Dan, you write like my great aunt, I can only understand one word in every five. With her letters, it's a blessing…but…you couldn't translate some of this for me?"

Dan sighed and placed his book down. "Give me that." He looked down at his own erratic writing.

Nate peered over his shoulder. "What are all those squiggles?"

"That's shorthand."

"Oh, neat. I always wondered what that was."

Dan shook his head and abandoned all thoughts of finishing his reading that evening. "Look, Nate, as I said, I've finished my paper. Do you want me to give you a hand?"

"That would be swell, Dan, you really don't mind?"

Dan smiled at him. "No, I don't mind, not at all. But I'll hold you to that drink after. It's been week's since I had one."

"God man, why didn't you say so before? Come and have one now!"

Dan's amusement grew. "Let's get this paper started first."

"Good idea!"

_xoxoxoxoxox_

The change in the girl's room was extraordinary. The ugly floor was been covered in a hand knotted silk Persian carpet, and plush embroidered cushions and velvet throw rugs massed on every available surface. They had bribed Vanya to place unauthorised picture hooks on the walls, to hang photographs and etchings, a collection of original Erté designs taking pride of place above Blair's bed and a large, gilt framed, art nouveau mirror above Serena's. The girls removed the original indeterminate coloured curtains and instead draped a collection of piano shawls over the railing, in every conceivable colour. The silken fringing swayed in the breeze from the open sash windows. The only clear surface in the room was Blair's desk, holding a collection of fountain pens and her etched calfskin writing set. She had taken over both bookshelves, stacking them with an eclectic collection of leather bound novels and course books. Serena's desk had been converted into a dressing table come bar, littered with makeup brushes, bottles and pots, covered in a drift of nose powder. The only thing that they hadn't improved was the closet space. The girls had taken to rotating their wardrobes on a weekly basis, exchanging illicit bottles of spirits with Vanya, for armloads of silk and cashmere garments.

Blair was curled on the window seat, _Lady Chatterley's Lover _held loosely in her hands, completely absorbed. She had been dying to read the scandalous novel, and had had a friend in Italy procure her a first edition, sneaking the banned book into the country with an innocuous, false dust cover.

Serena lounged on the chair at her desk, her silken robe slipping over one golden shoulder as she reflectively held up her collection of earrings, one at time. "B, stop being boring and talk to me. It's nearly cocktail hour and I promised Chuck we'd meet him in Harlem tonight. We have to get our glad rags on; he's dying to meet you. What are you going to wear?"

Blair reluctantly looked up from her page_. _She bit her lip, closing the book, using her finger to hold her place. "I don't know. I've been waiting for this book to arrive for a month, do I have to go?"

"Yes, B, the book isn't going anywhere. People are going to start thinking you're a bluestocking, studying all the time. Come on, you'll adore Chuck, and the band playing tonight is superb. You must wear your red velvet and the two-tone Ferragamo's with the garnet heels. I'll lend you my rubies. I'm wearing my white silk and your Egyptian drop earrings. Look. They are divine on me."

Blair rolled her eyes at the blonde girl. She was right though, the gold and enamel antique drop earrings showed off the swanlike quality of her long neck, below her glowing nimbus of hair. "All right, I have class in the morning though, so I don't want to be home too late. And look after my earrings, they belonged to a long dead Egyptian princess and my father will murder me if they're lost. He had them smuggled from a dig for me."

"You worry to much about class. Don't you know it's bad taste to have a higher than a C average?"

"For you maybe. I've never got anything less than a B+ in my life."

"Well your A average won't be threatened by a bit of dancing." She stood up and stretched luxuriously. " So, what will it be? Martinis or Manhattans, darling?"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N's I hope you're all ok with scene setting for a while. I found this chapter incredibly challenging to write. I hope my struggles aren't too obvious! Thanks for the reviews and alerts.**

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><p>A familiar head appeared around Dan's door. "Dan! Put that book down and put some decent clothes on. It's Saturday night and you're coming out with me to meet some dames."<p>

Nate had made Dan's room his second home. He never knocked after the first visit, barging in at any time of day or night. Sometimes for help with study but more often he just distracted Dan from his. Dan had taken to leaving the door wide open, for Nate's convenience, unless he was asleep.

"I would, my friend, but I have no eveningwear."

Nate laughed incredulously. "What do you mean? That's the most ridiculous thing I ever heard."

"I seriously have one other suit, other than this, so laugh it up. And neither is remotely suitable to go on the town, with you. I'll look like some street urchin you're sponsoring. Unless that's the look you're going for?"

"Come on, live a little. If you're so deprived of clothes, you can wear something of mine."

Dan looked down at his notebook. He was reluctant to leave the article he was working on. The only way he could boost his income was by freelancing stories and articles and he'd managed to get precious little done in that department in the weeks since he met Nate. A night on the town would dent the little he had left in the bank. What Dan wore meant little to him, but it meant much more to be able to hold his own financially and not be a burden to his family.

He shook his head. "I really don't think that'll work."

"I don't know, we're about the same height and what's a pound or two between friends? Or a dollar for that matter? Dan, I know money may be tight for you but this is my treat. I would be failing most of my classes if you didn't coerce me into a little work. So now I'm coercing you into a little play."

Dan was taken aback, for all Nate's careless manner and uncomplicated charm, he could be remarkably perceptive at times. "I don't want to be a sponge."

"I won't take no for an answer. So, you can either sit here and have me badger you all night, or you can come out and let me badger you all night. Until I find someone better looking to harass." Nate raised his expressive eyebrows as he offered his ultimatum.

Dan placed his hands flat on his desk and groaned. "All right, Nathaniel! But only to stop you trying to use your persuasive charms on me any longer. There are people…women…out there far more deserving of them."

"I knew you'd come round to my way of thinking."

Nate's room was more than twice the size of Dan's and littered with masculine garb. The second bed doubled as a catchall for anything that didn't find itself on the floor and both desks were covered in bottles and paraphernalia that seemed to have little to do with study. "No wonder you're in my damn room all the time. I don't know how you can move in here."

"See, you'd be doing me a favour if you'd take something. I don't even wear half of this. Fix us a drink while I play fairy godmother, will you?"

Both Nate's open closets were filled with garments. Many looked unworn and Nate searched until he found a black tuxedo with a matching waistcoat. He laid them on the spare bed and then opened a drawer to extract one of a number of crisply starched white shirts and a black bowtie.

"This will do nicely, I've never worn it and am now very unlikely to, ever."

Dan handed him a whisky and soda. "Nate…I can't take your clothes."

"You can do, very easily. I consider this yours now and I plan on you having many opportunities to wear it."

Dan shook his head into his drink. "You don't give up, do you?"

"No, and really it's you who are doing me the favour, because I'm not going to go drinking and picking up girls with any of the other meatheads in this building. Besides, I have a paper due on Tuesday and I'm counting on you helping me write it."

They finished their drinks and then Dan retreated to his room to change. He ran his hands over the satin lapel of the tuxedo. The pants were a little long but, for the rest, he had never worn anything so superbly tailored in his life. He'd polished his shoes and slicked back his curls and, by the little he could see of himself in the small shaving mirror in his room, he thought he might just carry the whole thing off. He topped the lot with his own overcoat and hat, which kind of ruined the illusion.

He met Nate at his door. Dan's self-admiration faded as he took in his friend's garb. He was a vision of sartorial elegance, from the mirror like sheen of his black shoes, to his satin opera hat.

Dan whistled. "Are you sure you need a sidekick? I might just cramp your style."

"Pincer attack, Daniel. I'll blind them with my shoes while you dazzle them with words. They won't know what hit them."

Dan chuckled back at him. "Well, then, I'll just grab my dictionary."

The bar Nate took him to, was deep in Harlem. Dan left his offending hat and coat at the cloakroom, feeling comfortable for the first time in such decadent surroundings. He hadn't been to the Cotton Club before, but the atmosphere and music was as extravagant as it's reputation promised.

Despite the mass of people, the waiter familiarly led Nate to a small round table. They took a seat, taking in the crowded dance room. Dan found his attention immediately commanded by two girls on the dance floor. They were perfection itself. Ivory limbs entwined with golden, no look but for the other. One, dark curls, red velvet and eyes, the other all sunny smiles and white silk. The contrast could blind you. The dark girl he recognised, her face looked so different to the scowl he remembered, exhilaration lighting her countenance so she sparkled with vivacity.

Dan groped in his pocket for his notebook, words flashing through his mind to depict their attractions. He felt bereft when he found he had neglected to bring it. A nudge in his ribs made him turn to Nate, who passed him a heavy tumbler filled with dark liquor. He grinned across at Dan. "They are something, aren't they? It seems not all Barnard girls look like yesterdays dinner."

Dan took a sip of his drink and focussed back on the girls dancing together. He wasn't alone; nearly every eye in the room followed their movements. "Barnard girls, you say? I thought they were all born wearing tweed."

"I thought so too." Nate laughed. "Manage to get their clothes off and there's just another layer of tweed beneath it. I'm glad I'm mistaken…it's…promising." He stood and buttoned his jacket. "I'm going to ask them to come and have a drink with us. Dibs on the blonde doll."

Dan sighed. "That might not be the best idea, Nate. I actually met the dark haired one on orientation day and the only impression I made was on her shoe."

Nate's eye's twinkled. "Take it from me, Humphrey. A bad impression is better than no impression."

_xoxoxoxoxox_

Blair adored dancing with Serena, and it was clear the feeling was mutual. No man could keep up with them. They took turns leading, switching seamlessly together, rapt in the joyous movement and freedom of one another. It was beyond fun. Almost more than giggling at the provocative or, alternately, scandalised looks it gained them. And it was safe; Blair hated being mauled. Serena had the talent to keep men at arms length, if she wanted, artlessly declining their advances with a smile, never offending. Blair watched her but couldn't learn to do the same. Unwanted interest generally resulted in some luckless individual having fire and brimstone rain down upon him. Blair had more than once found herself alone on the dance floor or stranded at the bar, while Serena navigated the same perils with ease.

Like now. The handsome, blue-eyed man who had sidled up to them at the bar was under her spell already. But it wasn't one of the times Serena felt she had to keep her distance. "B? Let's go have some champagne with this fine gentleman," she turned and winked at the man, "and his lonely friend over there."

Blair looked across to where she gestured, a dark haired man sat at a table, head hunched over his drink. She wasn't in the mood for making small talk. "Ugh, I hate bad posture."

Her friend's laughter rippled through the air. "Oh, I'm sure he'll sit up straight for you, if you smile at him nicely." Serena didn't wait for her answer but turned and followed the admirably, Blair had to confess, tailored back of the blonde gentleman.

"Daniel, these kind ladies are going to join us." The dark haired man he remained seated. Their host gestured to the waiter. "Champagne, good man. Only the finest for our company." The words rolled off his tongue unpretentiously, despite the imperious tones. He turned back toward them, an appealing smile gracing his features. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Nathaniel Archibald." Blair raised her eyebrows; so this was the man who was the heir to the Vanderbilt fortune, she hadn't expected to be so handsome. "And my friend, Daniel Humphrey."

Serena tilted her head, smiling, and gestured toward Blair. "This is Miss Waldorf and I'm Miss Van Der Woodsen, but please, call me Serena."

Blair looked more closely Nathaniel's companion, Daniel Humphrey. She found him handsome, in a somewhat unruly way, and vaguely familiar, but she couldn't place his face. She watched the other man pull a chair out for Serena, so she could be seated and waited for the same to be done for her. Daniel just smiled fatuously her. She looked pointedly at the chair, but he failed to take the hint.

"Chivalry is dead, it appears" Blair pulled out her chair and sat down, unassisted.

The dark haired man, or boy, now she had seen him at close quarters, looked baffled. "Huh?"

"My chair?"

He had the audacity to laugh. "Sorry, I grew up on a steady diet of Emily Pankhurst. I've had the inclination beaten out of me."

Blair raised her brow. "My, my, so unconventional."

He ran his hand through his hair, disrupting his curls. "Not really, my mother had me painting banners for her rallies at five years old."

The image of an earnest brown haired boy, painting suffragette slogans, impressed itself upon her mind. She couldn't help but allow herself to laugh. "Allow me to thank you then, for your efforts towards women's rights. And our emancipation from common courtesy."

He looked a little discomfited but smiled ruefully at her mirth. "I didn't mean to be rude, but you look more than capable of managing a chair by yourself. Noted, however."

They sat in silence as Serena and Nathaniel carried on an animated conversation. The waiter reappeared and presented a bottle to the gentleman. Pol Roger, Blair observed with approval.

Serena turned to her. "B, Nate and I are going to dance. Mr Humphrey here will look after you, I'm sure." Serena's dazzling smile took in both of them as she allowed Nathaniel to lead her to the dance floor. Duke Ellington's orchestra swept them up into a Charleston and Blair noted Serena's partner was almost as light on his feet as she was.

She turned back to her companion. "So, Mr Humphrey, are you going to ask me to dance?"

He stammered back at her. "Uh…I…I wasn't planning to. I don't dance."

"You don't dance? Or you won't dance with me?"

"With anyone. Period. Can't you just sit here with me and enjoy the band, without letting me ruin it for you?"

She blinked at him, disbelief oozing from every pore. ""How irregular. If you don't dance, what do you have to offer?"

"Conversation, I hope?"

"You hope in vain. I didn't come here to talk about suffragettes, I find them a little redundant."

She watched him take a breath. "I'm sure you never had any need of them. You're at Barnard, yes? What are you studying?"

The words startled her; men just usually tried to flirt, if they wanted to talk at all. "How do you know that?"

"I'm at Columbia."

Blair rolled her eyes. "Is this all the conversation you have?" She drained her glass and held it toward him. "If we're going to talk school, I need more mental lubrication."

Dan raised his dark brows at her. "Helpless, aren't we?" He took the champagne from the ice bucket and topped her glass up, before filling his own.

"How little you know. I'm just waiting for my dues." Blair turned back to the dance floor, watching Serena smile ingenuously up at her partner. Her friend had definitely been dealt the better hand. "Come on, you have to dance."

"You don't know what you're asking me."

She stood up and held her hand out. "How hard can it be?" He reluctantly took her hand, allowing her to lead him to the dance floor, looking apprehensive.

It was very hard, she realised. He was all limbs and no grace, looking down at his feet and, she swore, she could hear him counting under his breath. Blair cleared her throat and Dan guiltily raised his head.

"I told you, I don't dance."

"Can't dance, more like. You are appalling."

"I warned you."

"Not strenuously enough, I feel."

He took a step forward straight onto her toe. Blair immediately dropped his hand and let go of his shoulder. She looked up at his face, recognition dawning on her. "Oh! I remember you now. You're the man with the vendetta against shoes."

He looked bashful. "I was wondering if you'd remember that."

"Oh, it's coming back to me all too clearly."

Whatever charm she had found in him to begin with was gone. Blair felt she could almost weep at the mortification of dancing with him. What kind of figure must she be cutting with this buffoon? She looked up at him with frustration, vicious words brewing on her lips. Before she could speak her mind, however, she saw a hand reach up to tap her companion on the shoulder.

"Excuse me, may I cut in? This lady needs someone light on his feet." Blair watched the tips of Dan's ears turn red at the subtle jibe, but he withdrew from her nevertheless, allowing the unknown man take his place. She looked up at her new partner. The man's cat like eyes gazed intently at her, piercing through the dim light of the club.

"That was criminal, I couldn't watch the prettiest girl in the room being subjected to such mishandling."

"And you're the white knight, coming to my rescue?"

"If it pleases my lady."

He swept her around in his arms, their feet moving together with ease. She glanced across at Dan, hunched back over his drink. When he raised his head and looked back at her she turned back to her new partner and smiled widely. "Oh, pleased isn't the word."

"So what's a girl like you doing with a fellow like him?"

"I had little choice in the matter. My friend over there," Blair gestured over to Serena, still in Nate's arms, "has a lot to answer for."

He followed her gesture and raised his eyebrow. "Well, well, well…how very interesting." Blair didn't reply, the noise of the band and the speed in which he whipped her across the floor made it difficult to speak. She allowed herself settle in to his arms and enjoy his obvious proficiency on the dance floor.

The song came to an end and Blair watched Serena follow Nate back to their table, and it's lone occupant.

Her partner smiled at her suavely. "Another?"

She shook her head. "Thanks for the rescue, but no, I'll rejoin my friend."

"The pleasure was all mine. Allow me to escort you?" Blair took his arm, pleased by his attitude. He walked her over to her table and took her hand, pressing it to his lips.

Serena looked up at them, her eyes widening. "Chuck!" She pouted, "I see you've already ingratiated yourself with my B. Why am I not surprised?"

"You know me too well, sweet sister. How could I resist the loveliest lady here? So, this is the divine Miss Waldorf. I should have known she'd be a foil for all your glories, Serena." He pulled Blair's chair out for her, and she sat down, shooting Dan a smug look.

Serena gracefully rose from her chair to peck Chuck on the cheek. "B, meet Chuck…Charles Bass, my step brother, who, I must add, promised to be here hours ago. What took you so long?"

"I apologise, Serena. I didn't know my absence would cause you, and your fair friend, so much distress." Chuck looked pointedly across at the two men accompanying the girls.

"Chuck, this is Nathaniel…Nate…Archibald." Serena smiled conspiratorially at Nate. "And his friend, Daniel Humphrey. They're at Columbia."

"How convenient for them." Chuck snapped his fingers at the waiter, who immediately bought another chair over for him. "Scotch on the rocks, Wency. And I'm thirsty, make it deep."

"Yes, Mr Bass."

Blair found satisfaction in Serena's brother's casual graces. He was clearly a far more fitting companion for her own charms. She smirked across at Dan, hoping he'd realise his own shortcomings but, to her displeasure, he wasn't looking at her at all. Instead, he was gazing at Serena, admiration clear on his features as he engaged her conversation.

She lit a cigarette and turned back to Chuck. "So, Mr Bass, I'm disappointed at how little Serena has told me about you. Here's your chance to remedy the situation, I'm all ears."

Chuck's rakish grin spread across his face. "Oh, you're much more than that, my dear."

_xoxoxoxoxox_

The door handled turned silently and the two girls slipped through into the dark foyer of Hewitt Hall. Blair giggled as she dropped the key and had to kneel down and grope around on the floor to find it.

"Shh, B, we can't get caught. You know what hatchet face said last time."

"S, don't worry. Remember who we are, that old hag can't touch us."

"Miss Waldorf and Miss Van Der Woodsen!" The whispers and giggles abruptly ceased. "Do you know the time? Curfew was two hours ago."

"We're sorry, Miss Paxton, we were unavoidably detained."

"I know exactly what you've been up to. I can smell the liquor from here. I should call the police! You know the rules."

Blair looked at her disdainfully. "If you can smell anything, it would be from the bottle of whisky I know you keep in your sewing basket. How many other places do you hide it?"

The older lady's face blanched. "Miss Waldorf, how dare you!"

Blair smiled at her, saccharine sweet. "I think you should be letting us get to bed now, Miss Paxton. Serena and I both have class tomorrow."

Blair sauntered past the older lady, not waiting for an answer and Serena dropped her eyes and swiftly followed. She waited until they were safely in their room before she spoke. "Blair, you've just made us an enemy."

Blair rolled her eyes, dropping her shawl and bag onto her bed. "Plenty more where she came from."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N's Thanks for the reviews! They have thrilled me. I hope you enjoy chapter 3.**

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><p>The library had become Dan's preferred place to write. More often than not, the times he spent at his desk in his room were interrupted by generally noisy and nefarious goings on, which were all too easy to be distracted by. It had been fun, but that was the problem, it distracted him from his writing. It was becoming obvious to him that he must get more articles accepted, in order to stay financially afloat.<p>

His open notebook lay before him, various discarded books scattered about the desk. The pen in his hand scratched familiarly in the silence, marred only by the occasional cough or rustle of paper. Thoughts could come quickly and cleanly.

A flutter of colour against the grey and brown tones of the room made him lift his head. It was the girl he had started to see everywhere. Dan couldn't tell if it was just that Blair stood out so much from all the other girls who attended Barnard, or if she had actually started to haunt him.

The vibrant yellow of her garb was all motion and colour in the austere environment. The heavy stack of books in her arms a distinct disparity to the frivolity of her clothing and the beads that clattered around her neck. Dan's wasn't the only head to take note at her entrance, and the looks she garnered varied from admiring, to downright hostile.

Ignoring the stares, she found herself a free desk across the room, aslant from him, so he could see her profile bend over the books she spread before her. She selected a slim leather bound tome and opened it at a place she had marked previously.

A dishevelled looking sophomore uncoiled herself from her desk and stalked over to where Blair sat. Dan strained his ears to hear the woman's low tones. "Are you lost?"

She blinked up at the woman interrupting her reading. Dan could see the long sweep of her lashes, as her gaze raked over the self-important student, even from across the room. "I've been told this is a library. Am I mistaken?"

The woman scowled condescendingly, her tall figure looming over the desk. "No, I mean, what's a flapper like you doing here?"

Blair raised her brows. "I've come for the dancing, clearly."

"Don't you know this is a place for serious study? I cannot believe they let girls like you in here. Wearing that? Have you no sense of propriety? Your dress yells!"

Dan dropped his head and smirked at his notebook, anticipating the mouthful the doomed young woman was about to receive.

Blair drew herself up in her chair, lifting her chin. "If you can hear my dress yelling, it's at your skirt, if one could call it that. I think your mother wants her curtains back."

"I don't know what you're doing at Barnard. You care more about men and dancing and clothes than you do about study. You're a waste of space and resources."

Blair's eyes flashed. "Oh, dry up. Don't you know this is a library? Stop being such a bore." She stood up, slowly and deliberately pushing forward the mass of books in front of her. They caught an inkbottle sitting precariously on the edge of the desk and it tipped toward the belligerent sophomore. Black ink gushed down her voluminous biscuit coloured skirt and puddled on the carpet at her feet, staining her sensible brown leather shoes.

She gasped and stepped back. "Oh! You…you!"

Blair sat back down in her chair, opening her dark eyes wide. "A tragedy indeed. Your mother's going to be devastated."

The woman looked daggers at Blair and raised her voice further. "You did that deliberately you bitch, what's your name? I recognise you from Hewitt Hall."

A loud voice boomed over the room, "Silence! This is a library. Abrams, if you can't be quiet, please leave immediately."

Blair smiled disdainfully up at the young woman. "See, you're disturbing everyone now."

The sophomore turned away, fury etched on her face. She cleared her desk in a haphazard manner, crushing papers into her satchel and stormed from the room, leaving inky footprints in her wake.

Dan watched as Blair opened her book again, a smile playing around the corners of her mouth, amused and unruffled by the altercation. He picked up his pen, biting down thoughtfully on the end, and focussed back on his notebook. The words he wrote had nothing to do with the article he was working on, instead he began to record the scene that had played out before him. He periodically raised his head, looking across the room toward the dark haired girl. She sat reading, occasionally taking a few notes, her posture and focus remaining unchanged.

He felt stiff from his hours in the same chair and the article he'd been working on had lost its appeal. Dan decided to pack up and hunt down Nate to find someone to laugh with about what he had just seen. He had started to collect his papers when he noticed she had stopped writing, brows lowered in frustration, fiddling with her pen. He pushed his chair back from the desk and walked over to her, taking his pen and inkbottle.

He stopped at her desk. "Do you need help with that?"

Blair glanced suspiciously up at him. "Mr Daniel Humphrey. Are you following me?"

"I was here first. I suspect it's you following me."

"You wish." She sniffed contemptuously.

"Uh, I couldn't help but notice how you used up all your ink. I thought, maybe, you could use this." He held out the pen and ink in his hand.

She looked at his offering, quirking her brow. "That has chew marks on it."

"It shows it's well loved." He examined his pen more closely before placing it down on the desk. "OK, give me yours then. I have a way with pens."

"I hope you have a way with something, you have precious little else."

She held out her pen and he drew up a chair. The nib of the Waterman fountain pen looked perfectly fine so he screwed the body open and began to refill the canister. He glanced questioningly across at her as his fingers busied themselves. "You never answered my question that night. We're on the same campus. What are you studying?"

"English literature." She looked down at the book in her hands. "Currently early 19th century English poets." She threw Dan an accusatory look. "Why isn't there a 20th century poetry class?"

Her directness amused him to no end. "Have a word with faculty. I'm sure they're desperate to hear your opinions."

"I've tried that. The faculty here are positively mediaeval and my professor is allergic to modernism. He insists I read Keats and not Cummings!"

"I can't really see any problem with having to read Keats."

Blair reduced her voice to a savage whisper. "He's a sap."

"Of course, we modernists must hate the romantics." He rolled his eyes. "Surely one can read them and enjoy them for their differences. I like them both."

"You say that like you're comparing cheese, Daniel."

He smiled guilelessly at her. "Cheese is nice too, Blair."

"It's hardly in the same category." She replied hotly. "And I didn't give you permission to use my name!"

"I beg your pardon, Miss…no…the Miss doesn't suit you at all. I'll just use the Waldorf." He looked down to find his distraction from the task at hand had left his fingers black with ink. "Or maybe La Belle Dame sans Merci is more fitting."

Blair paused for a moment, softening her next words. "That's more Serena's line." Dan felt mystified by her inconsistency, how she switched from caprice to candour in an instant. "Speaking of whom, your friend Nate has been hanging around her like a fly drawn to blown meat. Why haven't I seen you out again with him?"

Dan smirked at her. "Flattering that you noticed my absence."

"My feet noticed, and were glad of it."

"I confess I've had more pressing matters to attend to than getting snubbed by spiteful women who dine out on humiliation."

"Is that so?" Blair blinked pointedly at the pen in his hand. "Are you done with that yet? I'm getting hungry."

"I guess I am." Dan took her notebook from the desk in front of her and pressed the nib on a clean white page. He wrote a few words and then passed the pen to her. "There. I think it'll do."

He pushed his chair back and stood up. "Uh…you know, if you're so desperate to discuss modernism with someone, you could come to my Wednesday…uh, kind of…discussion group."

"None of the literary societies at Columbia accept female members. But from what I've heard, I'm not missing much. They sound very like an alcohol fuelled, self-congratulatory, homoerotic boys own fantasy to me. See, I too can wield an adjective, Humphrey."

Dan raised his brows. "I see that...Waldorf. But this is very informal, I swear, and has no affiliation with any society on campus. It's not even on campus."

"Are you actually asking me to come to your book club?" The sneer was quite evident in her laugh.

He looked down at the floor for a beat, tempted to bite again but needing to drag himself away from the addictive acerbity of her conversation. "No, you're right. It was definitely a bad idea. Forget it. Good luck with Keats"

"I don't need your sort of luck, Humphrey."

Dan simply nodded to her and turned away toward his desk to collect his belongings. He bent to the task, determined not to look back at her.

One sly glance showed her looking intently at the notebook on which he had tested the pen.

_Maiden most unmeek_

Dan lowered his head and slipped toward the door before she could pin him with her gaze. The knowledge he'd got the last word in made his steps buoyant, his mind picturing the expression he could have left on her face.

_xoxoxoxoxox_

Blair scoured her _Complete Works of Keats _to place the reference Dan had written on her notebook. The words were familiar but she couldn't place the context. It at least gave her the motivation to keep reading, the poems eventually tempering the antagonism coursing through her. The volume of poetry was large and when she finally happened upon text he referred to, it wasn't the provoking taunt she'd thought to find. She read the poem through twice before glancing up to the clock on the wall. It was later than it should be; she would miss dinner all together if she didn't leave immediately.

Blair mused over the poem on the short walk back to Hewitt Hall, trying to tease out the insult she was sure Dan had intended. The cold wind almost blew her through the door into her building and she looked forward to curling up in her bed and continuing to read.

Her attention was bought sharply back into focus by the presence of the woman who had accosted her in the library. Her clothing had changed but traces of ink still showed clearly on her stockinged legs. She stood at the base of the stairs, blocking Blair's path, accompanied by the housemistress, Miss Paxton.

"Hello, Miss Paxton and… Abrams, isn't it? Waiting for me?"

Miss Abrams took a step forward. "Miss Waldorf, I expect full reparation for the damages to my belongings."

Blair's fingers twitched at the thought of slapping the smug look from her face. "Of course, you must need a new skirt, the poor old thing certainly has to be retired from service. Such an unfortunate accident, Miss Paxton."

"And I demand a full apology."

"Yes, I'm sorry about the ink. I'd bought it from Paris and I don't like the ink I can get here half so much."

The girl's eyes narrowed at Blair's words but before she could reply, Miss Paxton's voice cut in. "Miss Waldorf, I grow tired of having my attention drawn to your behaviour. It must cease or there will be serious penalties. We can refuse to house you here on grounds of misconduct and, I must say, Miss, you are treading a very fine line."

"Yes, Miss Paxton. I'll certainly take care to avoid Miss Abrams in future."

Miss Paxton checked the watch pinned to her bosom and sniffed. "Ladies, I don't want to hear any more from either of you." She departed from the room, leaving Blair and Vanessa alone.

The taller girl's countenance became even more petulant. "This isn't the last of this, Blair Waldorf. You humiliated me and I know you did it deliberately, despite what you told Miss Paxton."

"I was minding my own business before you interrupted my study, I would say you bought it on yourself. But please, try your best to enact revenge. I might even find it amusing."

"You can expect bill for the skirt and the shoes."

"And stockings too, several pairs…why not? You know, one could almost think that you tipped the ink over yourself, to con me for some new clothes. God knows you clearly need them."

Miss Abrams' face twisted. "You know that's a lie."

"Is it? I find my recollection hazy." Blair turned from the girl and stalked up the stairs toward her floor, dismissing the arrogant sophomore from her mind.

Blair collapsed immediately onto her bed when she reached her room. Serena wasn't home. The small space they shared felt oppressive, the improvements they had made, although increasing their comfort, caused it to seem even smaller. She pulled a pillow over her eyes to block out the glare of the lamp. She found the thought of heading to the dining hall tempting but the certainty of finding either Vanessa or Miss Paxton there depressed her appetite entirely.

She was just drifting into sleep when Serena burst through the door. "B, you're here! I thought you were never going to come home. Did you really tip ink all over Vanessa Abrams?"

She pulled the pillow from her face, blinking in the light. "Yes, and I'd do it again, right now if I could. Abrams is a sneaking bitch and now Miss Paxton hates me more than ever."

Serena perched herself on the edge of Blair's bed. "Vanessa is rushing around telling everyone that you basically threw the ink at her."

Blair smiled sleepily up at her. "She thinks I'm going to put it out that she tipped it on herself, to swindle me for new clothes."

Serena's eyes widened. "Are you going to?"

"I may, if I feel it's the best way to deal with her. It's a shame to have to spend too much time on it, she's so boring to think about." She groaned and rolled over in her bed. "I hate this place. The people are stifling."

"Well, it certainly isn't the Ritz."

Blair sat up, a burst of energy dispelling her lethargy. "Serena! You're brilliant. Why didn't I think of that before? If it all gets to be too much here, we can take a suite, at least for a night. We can eat vichyssoise and caviar…and, oh…have some breathing space for a while."

"That would be divine. But how do we shake off Miss Paxton? You know she has started doing nightly checks on us, to ensure we haven't broken curfew again."

"Pooh! That's easy. We just need a couple of decoys. Penelope and Jessica from down the hall are so desperate to imitate us, they would be more than happy to sleep in our beds for a night. They at least have the right hair colour. We'll just have to put up with the knowledge that they'll rummage through our things."

"B! Let's do it this weekend! We'll go dancing and we'll take the royal suite and remind ourselves of everything that we're missing out on being here."

"I want to go to the theatre. _The Age of Innocence _is premiering at the Empire and I'm dying to see it. It's the perfect opportunity. Can you tell Nathaniel to escort us? He'll need to bring his friend…whatever his name was."

Serena acquiesced and moved from Blair's bed to her desk, where she began to remove her layers of jewellery, replacing them in the various trinket boxes that lay before her. "You know, it would be better still if we could get our own apartment. It's impossible to imagine living like this for the next four years."

"Inconceivable, I know. My mother is vehemently opposed to the idea of me living without proper chaperonage. She's overly concerned for my reputation." Blair lay back in her bed again, her mind ticking over the suggestion. "It's something to work towards, however"

_xoxoxoxoxox_

"Dan? I haven't seen you in days, where have you been hiding?" Nate's voice, followed swiftly by his person, came stridently through his door.

"The library, I've had major amounts of work due." It was true that he'd been busy, but it hadn't really required the vigil he'd been maintaining in the library. He told himself it wasn't because he hoped to meet her there again. That he didn't try to find the desk with the best view over the room that housed the university's literature collection for any other reason than his own convenience. Dan placed his heavy bag on his bed and turned to his friend.

"You're looking sharp, is this all for me?"

"We're going to the theatre tonight so start getting ready, or we'll be late."

His casual words staggered Dan. "Uh…you've kept this secret passion for the stage very quiet until now, Nate?"

"Oh…I can't think of anything I'd like to do less." Nate laughed. "But it's Serena and her friend."

"Blair Waldorf?"

"Yes. They want us to escort them."

"Us. You and me?"

"What's so odd, Dan? Yes, you and me."

"Which play?"

"I have absolutely no idea, but we're meeting them at the theatre at seven, so you can find out then."

Dan's mind spun at the idea that she could want to go to the theatre with him. "Which theatre? There's more than one in New York, you know."

"Dan, I know that, I have it written down. Stop with all the questions and get ready. I'll be back in 10 minutes. That's all you get, otherwise we'll be late."

Nate left the room so Dan could change his attire. He didn't feel the same gloss he felt the first time he wore evening clothes. The bow tie he'd previously arranged with such nicety, failed to come together under his increasingly frustrated fingers. He was looking at his final sorry attempt as Nate came through the door once more. Dan straightened it as best he could and then gathered his hat and coat.

A car awaited them on the street and Dan marvelled again at the comfort that described his friend's lifestyle. Nate dealt with it with the same effortless ease that defined his natural charm.

Dan sank into the black leather upholstery of the car. "So, I do hope you actually know where we're going."

"The Empire Theatre, on Broadway. I hope the play isn't too long, we can take the girls to Club 21 after."

Dan had heard of the notorious speakeasy, but had yet to visit it. He had declined several of Nate's invitations to go there, primarily for the reason of avoiding the dance floor and his lack of grace. It seemed everyone in New York City could dance, but him.

The car pulled up to the front of the theatre, just after seven, and the doorman pulled the door to so the gentlemen could exit the vehicle. Dan looked up to the signage on the theatre, displaying the title of the play in all its neon glory. _The Age of Innocence_;he had heard the novel was being adapted into a play but if someone had told him he would be attending the premiere, he would have laughed at the unlikeliness of it all.

They found Blair and Serena awaiting them in the foyer. They looked magnificent, as always. Dan always felt that time slowed down a little when he saw the girls together. Their monochrome dresses so artless in the deliberateness of their choice. Blair in heavily beaded and embroidered black net, the low back exposing the long creamy column of her neck and Serena's signature white, this time draped crepe de chine with silken fringing dancing around her exposed legs. Dan felt his polite greeting tangle into a confused mess in his mouth.

It was cut short by Blair's terse words. "Humphrey, you look positively ramshackle. What did you do? Tie that thing while you were still in bed?"

Dan's fingers went to his neck. He should have known that what Nate, or anyone else, wouldn't say through politeness or sheer oblivion, would fail to make her feel obliged to hold her tongue.

She placed her hands on his shoulders, trapping him with her gimlet gaze, and started to smooth his lapel. "Lift your chin, I need to sort out this disaster." Her fingers tugged at his bowtie.

He obliged, squinting uncomfortably down at her. "Is this strictly necessary?"

"Ab-so-lute-ly necessary. You look like you've been dragged backward through a bush. This is hopeless. I'll have to completely retie it. Stay still."

Dan felt a flush creeping up his neck as she untied his bowtie. It was unnerving to have her stand so intimately close and, essentially, start to undress him. His fingers itched to either slap her hands away or to pull her closer to indulge himself in the sweet smell of her. Her actions were attracting amused stares from other theatre patrons and he tried to pull away.

"Stay still, I said!" She gave her handiwork one final tug and stepped back, looking at him critically. "You will do, just. I can't do anything about the hair. You know, you could have made more of an effort, being here as my guest and all."

Dan racked his brains for a reply, but he could still feel the pressure of her fingers at his neck and it disabled his ability to muster words.

She gave him little opportunity to retort, anyway, turning away to join Serena and Nate. They had found a small table in the bar and were in the process of doctoring a round of soda water with illicit whisky from a silver hip flask.

Dan almost drew Blair's chair for her, but resisted the temptation, taking his own seat and gesturing casually toward the vacant one next to him. Blair rolled her eyes but said nothing, merely sitting down and lifting the drink Nate passed to her, taking a delicate sip.

Dan racked his brain for a way to initiate conversation. "So, did you win your battle with the professor? Or did Keats succeed in the end?"

"The skirmish was lost, but the war is not over. I didn't appreciate your impertinent reference."

"You should read Wallace Stevens, _Anecdote of the Jar, _maybe you'll find the language more accessible."

Blair's eyes flashed in the manner Dan hoped. He knew he was inviting danger by provoking her, by he found himself unable to deny himself the pleasure of teasing her.

"The only thing I find inaccessible about Keats is his tendency to reside in a romantic fantasy land, unable to ever get to the point. Much like someone else of my acquaintance."

Serena looked over to Dan, her words cutting off the retort he had ready for Blair on his lips. "So tell me, Daniel, Blair says that you witnessed her altercation with Miss Abrams in the library. Are the rumours true? That she marched up to Blair's desk and poured ink over herself, muttering dementedly all the while?"

Dan choked on his drink at the image Serena painted for him. "More or less, I guess. You could interpret it that way."

"The poor misguided thing. Her reputation has taken a tumble over the whole affair. Most unwise of her to try to outwit my B."

The bell sounded to invite the patrons to proceed to their seats and the four companions finished their drinks and followed the glittering mass of people toward the theatre door.

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><p><strong>P.S. If anyone wants to know, the poem referred to is Keats's an<strong>_** Ode on Indolence. **_**And, as far as I can tell, the theatrical adaption of **_**The Age of Innocence **_**premiered on Broadway on November 27th, 1928, at the Empire theatre, in NYC (83 years today!). **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N's A long chapter; I hope you enjoy it as much as I have enjoyed your wonderful words of encouragement!**

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><p>Blair awoke submerged in the downy depths of a king size bed. It took a moment to collect where she was; her bed at Hewitt's could never be this comfortable. She removed her sleeping mask to reveal the satisfyingly opulent interior of the suite and snuggled back into the mass of pillows, allowing her thoughts to hazily drift over the previous evening.<p>

Serena's folly in coaxing Humphrey onto the dance floor at the club was at the forefront of her mind. Blair had tried to convince Serena of the uselessness of it, but the blonde girl was not to be dissuaded. Daniel's protestations had grown weak against her onslaught. "Serena, Blair's right, it's a bad idea." His eyes had searched fruitlessly around the room, patently searching for Nate or some other escape route.

Serena persisted. "How else will you learn if you don't try?"

"Why do I have to learn at all?" He looked more and more uncomfortable.

Blair couldn't help herself but interject again. "S, if he doesn't comprehend the social niceties of dancing, there really isn't any point. Go find another victim and leave Humphrey here to disagree with me about the adaptation of Wharton's dialogue."

"But, B, this a challenge made for me. I bet I can teach him to dance. I taught all the girls at my boarding school."

The raising of the stakes piqued Blair's interest. "I've danced with him, so I'll take that bet. Your ruby earrings against my silver fox."

Serena's merry laughter rang out. "You're on, you know how much I covet that fur!" She stood up and claimed Daniel's hand, tugging his protesting body up from his chair. He looked behind at Blair almost pleadingly. She compressed her lips and returned his gaze with a shake of her head.

Blair watched their antics on the floor with growing consternation. Serena smiled gracefully as she tried to guide Humphrey through the steps, but Blair noted her countenance becoming more and more fixed as the song dragged interminably on. Humphrey's face turned stony and she swore she could almost hear the sound of his teeth grinding together below the bass notes of the trombone. When he turned Serena straight into another couple and nearly knocked everyone off their feet, Blair had to turn away to try to distract herself from his embarrassment, unable to watch the grisly comedy any longer. Her irritation grew palpably when she noticed Chuck Bass standing behind her, evidently enjoying the spectacle immensely.

"Much more entertaining than theatre, wouldn't you say?" He raised his hand and signalled to a waiter before sliding into the seat beside her. "Miss Blair Waldorf, sitting here alone, with an empty glass? Your companions are most remiss."

"Mr Bass, I might have known you'd find me here."

"Your wish is my command. This is my home away from home, or should I say, my principal residence."

"So they make you up a trundle bed after the patrons have departed?"

"Something akin to that. I can show you if you'd like?"

Blair raised her brow at his forwardness. "No, I would not like."

Chuck quirked his eyebrow. "I saw you at the theatre with Daniel Humphrey, how does he deserve your favours and not I?"

"Charity, Bass. Something I doubt you stand in need of."

"I can think of many ways in which I need your charity."

Her eyes rolled at his presumption. "I sincerely doubt that."

He leaned forward and lowered his head to whisper in her ear. "You know, your mouth was made for me to kiss."

"In your dreams." She had tilted her head away, his hot breath on her neck making her feel uneasy.

Laughter came quickly to his lips and he sat back in his chair. "Oh, certainly in my dreams. But I'd prefer to make them a reality."

Her glare across the table did all it could to suppress his pretensions. "Please disabuse yourself of the idea of that ever happening."

The waiter loomed over the table, patiently waiting for their drink requests. Chuck's greeting was familiar. "Arnold, fix the lady a drink. Something to sweeten her up."

"I'll have a martini, Arnold. And Mr Bass here will have a scotch. Make it deep enough for him to drown himself in."

The waiter nodded and moved efficiently away. Serena and the hapless Daniel returned in his wake and dropped into their seats. Her face looked resigned and his was flushed pink.

Serena reached across the table to claim a cigarette. "Damn, did I miss the waiter? I'm desperate for a drink after that."

Blair narrowed her eyes with a smirk. "I'm sure he'll be back. So, the experiment failed? I warned you. I look forward to claiming my winnings"

Serena laughed across the table at her. "You were right on all accounts, B."

"Of course I was. Maybe you won't doubt my judgement next time. Humphrey, we really are going to have to do something about you."

Blair's train of thought came to a standstill at the sound of Serena's voice at her door. "B? Are you awake? You must come and feast your sore eyes on this." She swung her feet over the side of the bed and followed the sound of her friend's voice. She found her standing in her pyjamas in the warm golden light at the window overlooking Central Park. The table between them was spread with an array of breakfast victuals, appetisingly displayed.

Serena moved away from the window and took a seat. "I've missed real breakfasts! One can easily avoid the dining hall at Hewitt for any other meal but I dread having to make the choice between lumpy oatmeal or cereal that tastes like old cardboard."

"The minute I walk in there and smell the overcooked eggs, I lose my appetite completely." Blair ran her hands through her hair, smoothing the ruffled locks. Serena could always leap from bed looking radiantly dishevelled but Blair's hair was determined to kink.

Serena started lifting lids to examine the contents of the various dishes on the table. "Life will become far more tolerable if we can organise to do this every few weeks." She paused and spooned some of the dish she was holding directly into her mouth. "Although, it'll hard to bear going back there after this."

"S, I can't believe you can eat something like that."

"They're potted shrimps and they're ambrosia. You should try some, and this brioche…sheer heaven!"

Blair shuddered and helped herself to the fruit platter. It had been rare to find more than an apple on the menu at Hewitt Hall. It had to be on the top of the list of things she missed most. She had thought briefly about purchasing fruit directly from a vendor but how did one go about such a thing? It was probably just as well; the smell in their room, combined with the cloying scent of Serena's various fragrances, would make the atmosphere unendurable.

Serena stopped her perusal of the dishes before her, dropping her fork in the excitement of her recollection. "Blair, I can't believe I nearly forgot! Nate asked us to attend William Vanderbilt's New Year's house party on Long Island. At _Eagles Nest, _no less! You must come, Christmas is going to be deadly and we need some thrills before the next semester starts."

"I wish I could, S, but I'll be in Paris. I leave the day after exams, which means I arrive there just after Christmas." The speed at which one could travel across the Atlantic made Eleanor insist she return home for the vacation. At least her father's pie would make some of the time bearable.

Serena pouted. "That's too bad, B, I don't want to go to the party without you. You really should stay with me instead for the break. It's unthinkable that you have to spend Christmas alone in the middle of the ocean."

"Oh, I won't be alone, unfortunately, I'll be escorted by some mouldy distant relative that mother has dug up to accompany me. Spending most of my time aboard trying to give her the slip, no doubt."

_xoxoxoxoxox_

Dan's sleep had been fitful. His mind revisited, over and over again, his humiliation at the hands of the two vixens. When the dim light of the dawn peeped into his room, he finally vowed to himself to never place himself in such a situation again. The resolution allowed him to drift into some kind of sleep, though the morning cacophony of the residence cut it mournfully short.

His brief sleep had left him anything but rested, however the various deadlines pressing upon him forced him to leave his bed and dress for the day. He had had no chance to collect his mail the evening before, so he padded downstairs to check his pigeonhole. It contained the usual returned manuscripts and circulars but also several envelopes of the thinner kind. The type that could herald another magazine acceptance. His heart skipped a beat when he saw the Vanity Fair return address upon one of them.

Dan ripped the envelope open and scanned down the page, past the salutations, to the body of the letter.

_We read your short story with pleasure and wish to include it in the January edition of our magazine. Please find enclosed our usual remuneration cheque._

And the best words of all.

_We look forward to receiving more of your work in the future._

A smile spread across his face, widening into a grin, his fatigue vanishing. He had never dared before to send anything to Vanity Fair, thinking that he was stretching far beyond his literary reach. But when he had finished the short story that had begun writing the day he met Blair in the library, he had compulsively typed it up on the third-hand portable Remington he'd saved up for and sent it to their offices, before he could convince himself of the foolishness of the idea.

The other letter, although from not so illustrious a magazine, held similar words and an equally welcome cheque. The total of the sum of the slips was more than Dan had made in the previous months. It elated him to have so much cash at the ready. It would cover the costs of books for the next semester and allow for Christmas presents for his family with still some left over.

Dan walked back up the stairs clutching his mail to his chest. He placed them on his desk and sat down to peruse the rest of the papers. He looked down, observing the threadbare cuff of his second best suit, or first worst, as Blair would no doubt nominate it, and thought about the party Nate had invited him to. He had promised his friend he would attend with him, but until this moment he hadn't really considered the implications on his wardrobe. If he were going to go he'd need a new suit. As he pondered the matter further, the real breadth of the dress requirements dawned on him. Nate's tuxedo was all well and good for dark jazz clubs and speakeasies but this party would be white tie and tails at minimum.

Dan wandered next door to share his good news and discuss his wardrobe predicament with his sartorially blessed friend.

_xoxoxoxoxox_

Blair and Serena had finished their breakfast leisurely and then headed out to 5th Avenue on a shopping expedition. The hotel offered them a private car to return them to their college residence but Blair insisted on a cab in case anyone was watching for their return. They returned to Hewitt Hall laden with parcels, joyously discussing their purchases.

The first indication of the disaster to come was finding a tear stained Jessica and a sulky looking Penelope waiting in the foyer of their building with a smug Miss Abrams sitting between them. Miss Paxton stood before them all, her chin quivering with righteous indignation.

"Young ladies, we have been awaiting your return. I have been informed by a number of reliable sources that you attended the theatre yesterday evening in the company of two young men. Your failure to return here last night can only make me assume the very worst of your whereabouts."

Blair's chest swelled with wrath. "How dare you make such insinuations about us? If this establishment could actually fulfil it's duty and provide us with decent accommodation, then we wouldn't have felt the need to remove ourselves to a hotel. Please contact the Ritz-Carlton if you must, but they will support my every word."

"This is serious, Miss Waldorf, your families have entrusted us to take to care of you and for you to flagrantly flout our rules and to endanger our reputation is unacceptable."

"There is more, Miss Paxton." Vanessa stepped forward. "I discovered they have been bribing the porter Vanya, to perform favours for them. I insisted he wait to corroborate my story." She walked over to a door leading to the servant's quarters to reveal a nervous looking porter twisting his cap in his hands.

Miss Paxton looked piercingly at him. "Is it true what Miss Abrams is telling me, Vanya?"

His words came stutteringly. "M…Miss Paxton, I can explain, I only stored some extra luggage for them. I had the space, it was no trouble."

"There a strict regulations on storage at this facility, Vanya. I insist you show me immediately."

Vanya's face blanched. "That's completely unnecessary, Ma'am, it was only a trifle. Nothing to concern yourself with."

"Allow me to make up my own mind, thank you."

Vanya turned and proceeded up the stairs. The assortment of residents followed him, collecting more curious students as they walked up to the third floor. He led them to a door and withdrew a collection of keys from his pocket, fumbling to insert them into the lock under the frowning gaze of the housemistress.

It opened to show a collection of innocuous looking trunks. "You see, Ma'am, I only allowed them a little extra space"

"Open the trunks, Vanya."

"They just hold clothing, Ma'am."

"Do what I say, man, or I'll terminate your employment immediately!"

Vanya did as he was directed. As he had indicated, the open trunks held a motley collection of garments, the luscious silks and velvets catching the light from the open door. Miss Paxton knelt down to examine them in more detail. "Miss Waldorf and Miss Van Der Woodsen, I require you to rid these from the building immediately." She moved to the next trunk, lifting the layers of fabric. "Hewitt Hall does not make allowances for those who feel they…oh my…" Her voice stopped abruptly as she beheld the collection of liquor bottles that had been concealed by the clothing. "What in heavens name is this?"

A collective gasp echoed through the assembled onlookers. Miss Paxton lifted a corked bottle and unstoppered it to smell the contents. Her lips compressed as the aroma confirmed her suspicions. "Who is responsible?" She lowered the lid of the trunk and read the gilt lettering emblazoned upon it. "Miss Van Der Woodsen, please explain immediately."

"Miss Paxton… I…" Fear was evident on the beautiful blonde's face.

Blair stepped forward at once. "They are mine, Miss Paxton. Serena is completely innocent. I only placed them in her trunk, as there was no room in my own. Vanya had no knowledge of them either."

Miss Paxton stiffly drew herself up from the floor. "Miss Waldorf, this is a most serious breach. Not only have you jeopardised your own education, but you have threatened Serena's also. There is no doubt in my mind over who orchestrated this whole affair. Miss Waldorf, it pains me to say this." The look on her face spoke of anything but pain. "But you will be required to find alternative accommodation next semester if you intend to continue your study at Barnard College."

Blair looked momentarily aghast, but the fleeting expression was swiftly replaced with contempt. "Unnecessary, Miss Paxton. I will be removing myself immediately from the premises. It would be intolerable for me to remain for a moment longer. Thank you for prompting my exit, I was planning on making my own arrangements next semester but leaving now is far preferable."

Miss Paxton nodded. "I will be making a report to the College and your parents, I feel they would be remiss in allowing you to continue your education at Barnard, but unfortunately the decision is not mine to make. Miss Van Der Woodsen, I believe your innocence, so I will allow you to stay, but I recommend you cease all contact with Miss Waldorf immediately."

Serena's face had fallen into uncharacteristically serious lines. "Oh no, Miss Paxton, I'll be accompanying Miss Waldorf. If it weren't for her company, I would have found alternate accommodation long ago."

"Very well, if this is the case, I wash my hands of the both of you. I expect you to vacate the premises by the end of the day. You are lucky that I do not contact the police" She turned and glared at the spectators pressing around the door. "Please return to your rooms, ladies, and consider this a warning if any of the rest of you feel tempted to copy this appalling behaviour. Scatter, now!" The crowd immediately dissipated under her withering gaze. "Vanya, your last action as an employee of Barnard will be assisting these ladies with the removal of their luggage. We will not be providing you with a reference."

"But, Ma'am…" Vanya's usually amiable countenance grew distressed. "Without a reference, it will be impossible for me to gain further employment, please reconsider!"

"Well, you should have though about that before becoming involved in this affair. Please collect the bottles and accompany me to collect your remaining pay. Good day to you all." Miss Paxton turned her back and proceeded down the stairs, followed by the ashen-faced Vanya.

Blair waited until she was out of sight before turning to Vanessa, who had failed to depart with the rest of the interested crowd. "Well then, round three goes to Miss Abrams, who could believe it? Although, I confess, you've essentially done me a favour, I would have preferred to remove myself from here at my own pace."

Vanessa returned Blair's glare steadfastly. "I hope that Barnard follows Miss Paxton's recommendation and expels you from campus. Good riddance, I say."

"Well, whether I'm on campus or not, Abrams, you had better watch your back. This isn't over. Serena, let's get out of this misbegotten place." She turned away from the scowling brunette, leading the way back to their room.

She paused on the corridor a few doors before their room and knocked vigorously at a door. "Penelope and Jessica! I require your assistance immediately." The door opened, exposing the shamefaced pair.

Jessica face crumpled into tears. "We're so sorry, Blair…"

"I hold you equally to blame for this. How could you let it happen?"

Penelope looked resentful. "It was Vanessa. She heard us talking…she's always sneaking around the building, eavesdropping."

Jessica's sobs grew in volume. "But we should have been more careful! How can we make it up to you?"

"Well you can start by helping us pack. I'm sure I'll find more things for you, but this will do for now. Come to our room in 10 minutes, no more, no less. I need to talk to Serena." She slammed the door in their faces.

On the return to their room, Blair dropped the bed, the façade of nonchalant disdain falling from her. "How ugly that was. After such a delightful morning too!"

Serena sat down on the edge of the mattress beside her. "B, you shouldn't have taken the blame for the liquor. It was mine."

"She already hated me, S, there was no point to getting us both expelled from the Hall. It was silly of you to say that to her." Blair reached out her hand and took Serena's in her own. "But, you don't know how I appreciate it."

Serena smiled back at her and returned her grip. "What else could I do? I would never stay here without you. But," her voice halted, "I don't know what are we to do. My funds are a little low at the moment…I shouldn't have bought those shoes this morning!"

"I know, my allowance isn't due for a week and I abhor the thought of having to ask Eleanor to wire money, but I don't see any other option."

They sat in silence pondering their unfamiliar predicament.

Serena looked down at Blair, her smile reappearing. "B, I'll send a note to Chuck, I'm sure he'll allow us a suite at the Empire for a week or two, until we're back on our feet!"

"I think I'd prefer to camp in the library than be beholden to your step brother in any way."

"It won't be for long, Mother is bound to allow me to take an apartment. She'd prefer me not to disturb her tour of Europe."

Blair thought for a moment. "I'll have to telegram my Mother, she has an apartment on 5th Avenue and she just has to give me access to it. Maybe we'll only have to stay at the Empire for a night or two."

"That would be perfect, B. We just have to find a suitable chaperone and my mother won't give it a second thought."

"My mother will send Dorota. She refused before, but I'll give her no choice now." She stood up from the bed and sat at her desk, picking up her pen to compose the message.

Serena looked doubtful. "Your nursemaid? Lily will hardly find her a suitable companion."

"Write her you'll be living with the Countess Kishlovsky, I'm sure that will calm her trepidation. She's no Olenska, but she's a Polish countess nonetheless, even if she was my nursery maid."

Blair lowered her head to the blank page in front of her. There was no way of softening it, so she wrote the words in the bluntest manner possible.

_Mother. Hewitt hall intolerable. Send Dorota immediately. Address all correspondence to the Empire Hotel. Will be unable to return to Paris and need immediate access to penthouse. And funds. I repeat. Send Dorota immediately! Blair_

She knew the words would infuriate Eleanor, but her only hope was that she was so busy with her spring collection that she would be unable to do anything about it. She turned to her friend, "Are you sure Chuck will allow us a suite?"

"Of course, B, there's no question. He lives there himself and will be delighted to have our company."

"He lives there too?" Blair frowned at the knowledge. The door sounded and she opened it to allow Penelope and Jessica to enter. The uncertain expression vanished from her face, replaced by distant hauteur. "Please start folding the clothing hanging in the cupboards. Don't touch my underthings or my books, I'll pack them myself."

Vanya's depressed face appeared at their door behind the two girls, drawing a trolley loaded with trunks. "I've come to deliver these to you. I tell you, I never should have involved myself in this. You ladies have ruined my life."

Blair raised her brow at him. "That attitude won't get you far. We may just be your saviours, Vanya. Serena and I will require a footman if we are to set up in an apartment." Vanya's demeanour immediately brightened. "And the least we can do is to consider you for the post. Your first commission will be to telegraph this to my Mother." She folded her letter and placed it in an envelope, writing Eleanor's directions on the front.

"And once you have completed that," Serena added, "we require you to deliver this message to Mr Charles Bass at the Empire Hotel. Tell the concierge to deliver it directly to his hand and then wait for a response. Do not return without a reply." The man nodded and swiftly departed, closing the door behind him.

Serena returned to her desk and began to stow her jewellery into a small trunk. "You know, B, there's an upside to this. You can't return to Paris now so at least you can come to the Vanderbilt house party with me."

Blair smiled but didn't reply, busying herself with the task of packing her precious book collection, wondering at the indomitable optimism of her friend.

_xoxoxoxoxox_

Dan's visit to the tailor had been more successful than he'd hoped. Nate had insisted on accompanying him to steer him toward the more reputable establishments. His presence had been a lucky charm, the tailor behaving almost obsequiously in his company. He had been persuaded into commissioning a tailcoat and dress trousers but refused the cream flannel suit on the grounds of its expense. A word in the tailor's ear by his friend prompted the man to explain that by ordering two suits, the price of the second was always heavily discounted.

He'd visited Brooks Brothers, after being measured by the tailor and sent on his way, picking out a selection of new shirts and the requisite small clothes. He hesitated between a new overcoat and new shoes. Both could be justified, in fact were probably necessary with winter fast approaching, but he had begun to feel a little guilty squandering all his funds. The coat won in the end, his current over garment looking almost disreputable in its well-worn state.

Dan was left with less money than he'd hoped but still enough to buy his sister a Christmas present. Although the sight of him in his evening dress would thrill her enough if she ever got the chance to see him in it. He coaxed Nate into the nearest haberdasher and, with much assistance from the shop assistant, selected a length of silk to gift to Jenny. She would be in raptures over the fabric, her deft fingers itching to craft a new frock with it.

He had been requested by the tailor to return in a week's time for a fitting and had just returned from it to his residence, pleased with how his new garments were coming along. The doorman stopped him on his way in, pressing a note into his hand.

_Meet me on the library steps at 2pm. We have to study._

The note was unsigned but he recognised Blair's handwriting. It surprised him. They had studied together on one occasion before, but it had been purely circumstantial. The library had been jam packed in the lead up to exams and Blair had been unable to find a spare desk so she had coerced him into sharing his own. It had been the most unproductive study he had ever conducted, the smell of her hair and her quick-witted observations making it impossible to concentrate on his own work. He learnt two things in the afternoon. The knowledge she was going to the Vanderbilt House party pleased him deeply. The other fact did little to gratify him. She had removed herself from Hewitt Hall under acrimonious circumstances and was currently residing at the Empire Hotel. It had shaken him when Nate informed him that Chuck Bass lived there also and he'd been resisting the urge ever since to go and check to make sure she was comfortable there.

Dan checked the clock and found he would just have time to tidy himself and collect his books before meeting her.

She stood on the steps in the wintry sunlight, tapping her foot. "Humphrey, you're late."

"No, I'm not. Where are your books?"

"You are late. We're going off campus to study." She began to walk down the steps toward him.

Dan blinked. "But the public library is miles away."

"We're not going to the library."

"But…"

She pursed her lips disapprovingly. "Enough, you'll be learning and that's all you need to know for the moment. Just appreciate the fact that I'm willing to be seen off campus with you in that…" She looked him up and down. "I don't know what to call it."

He fell in step beside her, wishing that his overcoat had been ready for him to pick up so they didn't appear so socially at odds with each other. She was impeccably dressed as always. Her face nestled into her fur collar and her neat ankles were shown off to admiration in her jaunty red leather shoes.

They found themselves walking down Broadway, Dan watched Blair checking every street sign. "Waldorf, where are you taking me?"

"To study, Humphrey, just a different sort." She looked at the scrap of paper in her hand again and turned down a street to their left. "Here it is."

Dan looked up to the sign in front of him. "A dance studio? Waldorf…"

"Humphrey, you are a shambling fool when it comes to the dance floor. If you think you can go to a Vanderbilt house party and just sit and nurse your drink, you're mistaken. You're not Chuck Bass. You can't go to a house party and not at least be capable of taking your hostess for a turn around the floor."

Dan looked hurt. "Well, I won't go, if that's how you feel."

"That won't do. Don't be such a sap, Humphrey." She spoke briefly to the highly made up young woman at the counter of the studio, who directed them to a door on the right. Dan followed Blair toward it, finding an open room with a bare wooden floor and a gramophone. The walls were adorned with large mirrors but other than that it was empty. She removed her coat and hat and hung them on a coat hook by the door. Dan followed suit.

"I've booked this for the next hour. We have to sort out this left footed inability of yours. You'll never get a girl to kiss you if you can't dance with her first." Dan rolled his eyes and tried to demur once more. "Daniel, you have no choice. It's my Christmas present to you, if you like." She turned to the gramophone and put on the record she had selected. "We'll start with the Charleston. Come here."

He walked over to her and stood stiffly before her. "Now you're meant to lead, but I'm going to have to show you what that means." She moved to stand beside him. "We'll do the feet first. Step forward and bring your other foot in line…that's right…and now back…and again." She smiled, "See, not so hard. Now loosen up and bend your knees." Her delicious laughter pealed. "Not like that! You look like a scarecrow. Like this."

Dan watched as Blair bent her knees and her limbs started flying back and forth. "Slower, Waldorf, you go too fast."

She gave him a smirk. "Of course I'm too fast for you, that's a given. Just give it a try."

He shook his head but bent his knees and attempted to follow her movements. He felt like a fool.

"You're getting there. Now watch…see how I bend my legs. Watch them, Humphrey!" Dan felt a blush creep up his face as he watched her skirt flick up above her knees. "OK, now step to the side…like this…" He felt his long legs tripping him up at the seemingly impossible movements. "Try again, you're nearly there." She stood and watched him appraisingly. "…That's it. Now do it again." Dan lowered his brow at her imperious tone. "And don't sulk, it doesn't suit you."

The tune changed and Dan began to feel a little more comfortable with the steps. Blair watched him go through his paces, giving him tips on his movements. "Move your arms. You're not doing a jig." Amusement was clear on her features.

She finally decided he was ready to try it with a partner. "Loosen up." She took his shoulders and gave him a shake. "Now, one hand goes here." She moved his arm so it rested on her shoulder blade. "And the other holds mine, like so." She moved her free hand up to his shoulder.

"Blair, I have danced once or twice before."

She smiled up into his face and Dan felt his heart skip a beat. "Well, you wouldn't know it to look at you." She laughed. "I can't believe you're blushing. You are so Victorian."

She withdrew from him to restart the record then slipped back into his arms. "Now, try and do it again." She raised her brows. "And I'll try to avoid being stepped on."

He looked down at his feet, as they started moving. "Don't look at your feet! My eyes, Humphrey." He lifted his head and stepped forward, straight onto her shoe.

"My feet are going to be black and blue, I just know it."

Dan dropped his arms. "This music is too fast, I can't keep up with you."

Blair sighed. "Let's try it without the music first then." She flicked the gramophone off and turned back to him, holding up her arms. "Count to eight…and yes…you can look at your feet if you must."

He looked down, watching their feet moving slowly together, trying to copy the graceful turn of her leg. His lips moved as he counted in his head.

"That's it! Now to the side…step through...I knew you could do it!"

He finally felt brave enough to look up and found her gleefully grinning at him. He helplessly returned her smile.

"Now, music!"

She turned the record back on and stepped back into the circle of his arms. He looked down at their feet again as their pace sped up and was amazed to see their feet moving smoothly together, mirroring each other.

"You're getting it! Isn't this fun?"

"It is." He promptly stood on her foot again.

She rolled her eyes in a longsuffering manner. "Do I have to teach you how to talk and dance at the same time?"

"Give me a chance, Waldorf, we didn't all come out of the womb, talking and dancing non-stop like someone I know."

"Practice, Humphrey, practice is all it takes."

Dan said nothing but pulled her closer to his chest, so he couldn't see her taunting face.

They moved fluidly around the room together as the music continued. The song finished and another, faster this time, took its place. He felt her rest her head briefly on his shoulder and then she pulled away from him, her movements becoming faster and more open.

Dan tried to follow, but his feet faltered. He stopped and watched her, her arms and legs graceful in the frenetic movement. She began to giggle and he felt a foolish smile grow on his lips.

"Just try it. No one else but me can see you."

He gave himself a vigorous shake and picked up the steps again, his laughter joining hers. "I swear, Waldorf, you're doing this just to make me look stupid."

She twinkled at him. "Maybe, but you take yourself so seriously, someone has to laugh at you sometime. A little taste of humiliation does you the world of good."

She moved back into his arms, returning to the simpler steps he could follow. "And at least you won't look so stupid next time a girl asks you to dance."

They continued and Dan became more and more comfortable holding her in his arms. She pulled away from him when the song ended, her cheeks pink from the exertion.

"Now try to practice every chance you get. I have to go but feel free to give it a try without me."

"Dancing on my own?"

"You'd be surprised at how much fun it can be." She gathered her coat and turned to a mirror to smooth her hair and position her hat. She looked critically at her reflection and pulled out her compact to powder her nose. Finally satisfied with her appearance, she moved to the door. "Next time we'll do the foxtrot. I can't have you being a one trick pony, Humphrey."

Dan stood still as she closed the door behind her and turned to the gramophone, restarting the record from the beginning. He counted through the steps once more, thinking how ridiculous he looked in the mirror. He persisted nonetheless; he could close his eyes and almost imagine he was still dancing with her.


	5. Chapter 5

**I've worked so hard for you guys this week! And you deserve every moment for the fabulous words you've reviewed with. To answer a few questions, yes, I research but I love history so it's not a chore. And the plot is thickening, I know where it's going (for now) so you'll just have to keep reading to find out. The good news, for me and hopefully for those who are enjoying this story, is that I have imminent holidays from work and will be able to spend some quality time with this story very soon. **

**And, as I haven't given proper credit for the last few chapters, please give a round of applause to the people who actually own these characters.**

* * *

><p>The reply Blair received from her telegraph mother had been short but it was hard to make out her intended tone in the concise format.<p>

_I arrive on the 16__th__ stop please remain at the Empire until I arrive stop I expect you to receive me there stop Mother_

Her hope for her mother's easy capitulation to her request to move into the penthouse was clearly in vain. She would have to remain at the Empire until she arrived. At least it hadn't been as uncomfortable there as she had anticipated. Chuck had conducted himself in the most gentlemanly manner and her own dedication to proving to Barnard her academic commitment meant she spend most of her time at the library anyway. The few times he had called on Serena and herself had been exceptionally civil and Blair had found herself warming once more to his urbane charm.

The dancing with Daniel had been the only time Blair had briefly forgotten her preoccupation with her mother's arrival. How much she had enjoyed that hour astonished her. She had wanted to follow it up with another lesson, she didn't trust him to practice on his own, but she never saw him in the library anymore, despite the hours she spent there. She refused to allow herself to call on him, the faculty at Barnard had warned her that one more lapse of behaviour on her part would result in her expulsion from the college, and they would certainly see her visiting at an all male college residence in that light.

On the day of the 16th she sat in her suite at the Empire awaiting Eleanor's arrival, her poised exterior masking her inner turmoil. Serena had offered to stay to support her but Blair thought it best to face her mother alone. If only Eleanor was a little more like Serena's mother. Lily had replied to Serena's letter with only that the living situation with Miss Waldorf sounded eminently suitable and she wondered why Serena hadn't set up in her own establishment before. The postscript merely asked her if she required her allowance increased.

An entourage of assistants and flurry of activity heralded Eleanor's arrival, as always. Blair read the disappointment on her mother's face, but the fact that she'd bought Dorota with her gave a semblance of hope. Dorota wasn't usually an essential member of Eleanor's staff.

Blair endured her mother's shattering lecture on propriety in silence, knowing that interjecting would only fuel her fury. She waited for Eleanor's rage to dissipate before she delivered her carefully worded arguments for being allowed to remain in New York.

"Mother, we will have the most respectable establishment if you'll just let us live at the penthouse. I've engaged a footman, Serena is of impeccable lineage, you have to admit and we'll be presided over by the Countess Kishlovsky herself. Who could ask for more?" Eleanor snorted. Blair raised her eyebrows delicately. "Mother, really?"

"She may be a countess, Blair, but we both know that she has little influence over your decisions."

"I wouldn't go out so much, Mother, if I had an actual home to live in and Dorota to take care of me. She could send you daily reports on my wellbeing. It's no wonder things turned out the way they did. Hewitt Hall was so claustrophobic; it just about drove me crazy. I assure you, if someone tried to make you sleep in that cupboard they call a double room, you would have removed yourself to the Ritz immediately."

Eleanor looked thoughtful; Blair could sense her wavering. "But the alcohol, Blair? I couldn't believe my eyes when I received the letter from Barnard. It seems so unlike you to do such a thing. You're not in Paris anymore. You do realise there's a prohibition in place here?"

"Of course I do. It just took me a little while to adjust to the archaic laws in this country. I learned my lesson. Please don't make me return to Paris, Mother. My grades have been so good, even you can't fault them."

"I've never worried about your grades."

Blair launched her final argument. "You've never had to. And it's too late for me to apply to the Sorbonne, I haven't even sat the baccalaureate. You don't really want to have me on your hands for the next six months, do you?"

"I thought you could assist me with my business."

"We tried that, Mother. I infuriated you so much with my critique that you wouldn't let me in the studio anymore. You know it's impossible for me to hold my tongue when some old hag of a client of yours needs to be stroked into making a purchase."

Eleanor looked torn. "Blair, you have almost convinced me. But there are conditions, I want to meet this Miss Van Der Woodsen and have contact with her mother. If I hear a breath of scandal, or your grades drop, you will find yourself on the next boat to Paris. And if I have to make another emergency trip to New York, you will be removed directly to my workroom to sew beads for the next six months!"

"Mother! Thank you, you can trust me, I promise. "

"I know I can trust you to get your own way, Blair. Do not fail me, you will bear the full brunt of my wrath if anything goes awry."

Blair let out her pent up breath in a sigh of relief. "I won't fail you, Mother. The threat of the beads alone is enough to make me never go out again."

_xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox_

Dan sat aboard the train to Long Island musing over the past few days he had spent with his family, a smile playing on his lips. He had spent a quiet Christmas with his father and sister. Alison Humphrey was abroad, giving lectures on women's suffrage, leaving their small family group to celebrate the festive season alone.

He'd worn his new overcoat but left the rest of his recently acquired finery in his trunk, not wishing to answer the awkward questions he knew his father would ask him. He didn't even tell Rufus that he was to be published in _Vanity Fair. _Dan told himself it was because he would send him a copy when the magazine was issued, to really surprise him.

The silk had delighted Jenny, as was Rufus with the sheet music Dan bought him as a gift, for all the latest songs. He had sidled up to Jenny after they had finished their festive supper and asked her if she could dance. "Of course! We all take turns at school. But I'm the tallest so I always have to be the man."

He put his hands up in invitation. "Well, you can be the lady this time."

"Dan! You never used to want to dance with me. What changed? Is it a girl?"

Dan shook his head and refused to say any more on the subject, Jenny eventually getting the message, only digging occasionally, as all little sisters will. She coerced Rufus in playing the piano while they danced around the parlour, polishing his Charleston and practising the Foxtrot he had bribed a protesting Nate into teaching him. The follow up with Blair had never eventuated, he hadn't seen her since his dance lesson, spending little time in the library, studying in his room in the lead up to his exams, resisting the temptation to try and see her. He knew it was becoming hazardous to him, how much Blair Waldorf was occupying his thoughts. His interest in a girl that far out of his league could only spell disaster and he hoped the 'out of sight, out of mind' mentality he was fostering would work, eventually.

He and Jenny had ended up breathless with laughter and Dan found he enjoyed the time with his family far more than he had anticipated. When Rufus finally refused to play anymore and went up to bed, Dan had dragged Jenny to his room to show her his new clothes. She insisted that he put them on immediately to model them for her and remembering her look of delight when he did renewed the smile on his face.

Rufus had been deeply disappointed when he found out that Dan would only be staying a few days, until he went to stay with Nate. "Isn't he the fellow from College? You live next door to him, you must see him everyday, why can't you spend more time with us?" He had felt a twinge of guilt at abandoning his father and sister, but the invitation to be a houseguest at the Vanderbilt's was impossible to resist. He told himself he would be doing himself a disservice if he declined to go, the material he could garner would certainly supplement the scope of his writing.

Nate met him at the station, driving his cousin's Mercedes Roadster. It was a far cry from Rufus' model T. They cruised through the town slowly, but once they reached the outskirts, Nate pulled over to the side of the road. "Do you want to drive?"

Dan smiled at his friend. "I thought you'd never ask." They swapped seats and when they reached a straight track of road, Nate insisted Dan floor it. He let out a whoop of joy at the exhilarating speed, almost feeling regret at the rate in which they got to the house. Nate laughed at his expression, promising him they'd go motoring the following day.

His bedroom was the most opulent he'd ever seen. Dan thought he could almost sleep crossways on the enormous bed. A private bathroom and a view that looked out over the lake, no other residence in sight; the level of comfort these people lived in was staggering. But it wasn't until he surveyed the vast library, and was told to make himself at home, that he truly felt envy. He scanned the book-lined walls in awe.

"Nate, this is amazing. You didn't tell me!"

Nate carelessly ran his hands across a row of books. "I doubt half of it has even been read before, no one in my family is remotely bookish. But one must have a library." He turned to his friend, a wry expression on his features. "And if you think, Dan, that I invited you here to lose yourself in this room, you are mistaken. I'll give you half an hour to explore and then I insist you come have a drink and play some billiards with me."

_xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox_

Moving into the penthouse with Serena had been arguably the most amusing thing Blair had ever done. They had inspected the apartment together, directing the newly employed housemaid to remove the dust covers and planning where their small collection of pictures would go.

Blair surveyed the bare walls thoughtfully. "I must get Mother to send over some more. My Manet would be superb on that wall there."

Serena moved around the room, so eager to uncover the furnishings in the room, she couldn't wait for the housemaid to finish the task. "And we need more carpets, this floor is so bare."

They walked upstairs debating the arrangement of the furniture and how the bedrooms should be allocated. Blair barely glanced over her room, more interested in exploring the small study. The large windows faced south, letting in the warm winter rays. Two armchairs faced the small fireplace and Blair could just see herself there, curled up on a wintry night, book in hand. The thought filled her with a glowing sense of contentment.

The girls agreed to throw a house warming party, as soon as they returned from the Vanderbilt's. Eleanor stayed to spend Christmas with them but left immediately after to return to Paris and they immediately threw themselves into planning the event, making the days pass swiftly before they would leave to go to the Vanderbilt's.

The final day of the year saw them travel to Long Island. Serena had wanted to take the train, but Blair insisted that they hire a car to escort them. The mansion wasn't as wonderful as Blair had heard, despite Serena's raptures. She found it heavy, too earthbound to please her, she preferred the soaring lines of the more modern art deco architecture.

They were escorted to their rooms to rest after the journey and prepare for the evening before them. Serena's and her own room conveniently adjoined. Blair couldn't fault the furnishing, despite the critical eye she judged her surroundings with. She immediately ran a bath to soak away her travel stains, refreshing herself for the imminent party.

She leisurely dressed herself after a short nap. The gown Eleanor had gifted her was divine, the blush and gold beaded pattern draping with a delicious weight across her body. The net front reached almost to her neck but the back draped daringly low and the fringed petals of the skirt swayed against her knees, dancing as she checked herself in the mirror. The gilt embroidery on the toe of her shoes highlighted the intricate beadwork of the gown and her dark rosy lips set off the whole. Her toilette complete, Blair exited her room and knocked on Serena's door. "S, are you ready? I'm going down."

The door opened before she had finished her sentence and her friends beautiful face appeared, her body still clad in her dressing gown even though her makeup was complete. "Come in and help me! Then we can make our entrance together." Serena took her hands and pulled her into the room. "Oh, B, you are gorgeous, you're going to completely eclipse me tonight. That gown is divine."

Blair smiled at her friend's words knowing that it was impossible for Serena to be outshone by anyone. Serena dropped dressing gown to the floor and stood in her camiknickers. She picked up the silver lace and chiffon dress that lay across the bed and shimmied into it. "Do me up?" Blair moved over and fastened the tiny buttons at the back. The cut was more conservative than she was used to seeing Serena wear but the sheer lines clung to her friend's tall form, the long slashed handkerchief hem showing off her length and shapeliness of her legs. Serena looked down, smoothing the skirt with her hands. "Is it too simple?"

Blair shook her head and laughed. "You'll make every woman in the room look overdone and every man will wonder what exactly is underneath."

Serena pulled them over to the mirror, in a move reminiscent of the first day of their acquaintance and they surveyed their reflection. "Imagine if we hadn't met, if we hadn't been made room mates. What if one of us had been made Vanessa's room mate or Nelly's?"

Blair caressed her friend's shoulder. "It was fate. It would have been impossible to have it any other way, the God's knew."

Serena wrapped one hand around Blair's shoulder and tousled her own blonde crop with the other. "You're so right! Let's go, I hear the band starting and these dresses are desperate to dance."

They walked down the stairs, arm in arm. The noise of the room lulled as they were announced, almost every eye in the room attracted to their shared splendours. Serena smiled across at Blair, "I see Nate and Daniel over there. Let's join them."

The two men were engrossed in conversation. Dan's usual air of scruffiness had vanished and he wore his evening dress, not with the swagger of Chuck or the elegance of Nate, but with his own indefinable charm.

Blair felt a twinge of annoyance by the fact the two men hadn't yet noticed their entrance. "My, my, aren't we gentlemen looking fine."

Their heads turned towards the girls immediately, Dan's welcoming smile, giving Blair a not unpleasant jolt. He was so clearly pleased to see her; she couldn't help but be flattered. "Serena, Waldorf, a delight as always." His dark eyes swept over her, an unreadable glint appearing.

"We'll see about that. Where have you been hiding? I haven't seen you on campus at all."

He looked discomfited at her question. "Studying, it's… uh… been so cold I hardly wanted to venture out of the Hall."

"That's the poorest excuse I ever heard. What are you, a man or a mouse? Since you gave me no opportunity to give you that follow up lesson, I insist you give me a Charleston, immediately. I have to check on my pupil's progress."

_xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox_

The party was reaching his peak. The jazz band brayed out loudly and the room was crowded with a sublime menagerie of colour and form. Champagne flowed. Serena had enticed Dan onto the dance floor, and for the first time he felt comfortable there. His practice allowed him to look up from his feet and grin at the joyous face before him.

He watched Blair dancing with Chuck, the smile she directed up at the man dimming his enjoyment but he forced himself to look away and try to concentrate on the girl before him. She was beautiful, every man in the room must envy him, he knew, but he found her insubstantial, if he tried to engage her in talk about her studies she brushed it off, returning to her chatter about the music or the people or the clothing at the party.

The dance finished, Dan couldn't believe he had managed it so creditably, while managing to talk to the blonde girl. That part hadn't been so hard; he had merely been obliged to nod and smile, with the occasional yes or no, while she gossiped about the people around them.

"Well done, Daniel. A far better attempt than last time, I have to admit. I'd never have danced with you again if I hadn't seen you pull it off with Blair earlier. Once more?"

The band started playing another tune but Dan demurred. "I can't monopolise the prettiest girl in the room, I can already feel the daggers in my back standing here talking to you."

Serena laughed gaily. "Well, be a darling and get me another champagne? It's nearly midnight!"

She spun away from him, picking up the rhythm of the music, her feet light. Dan headed toward the bar, keeping an eye out for Blair as he made his way through the crowd. He stopped dead when he saw her. Pressed up against a pillar, Chuck Bass' dark head bent toward hers. He mentally willed her to push him away, but instead he saw her raise her face to his, allowing the man to lower his lips to hers.

He couldn't name the emotion that surged through him. He wanted to leave, no, he wanted to go over and tear him off her; instead he just stood there, helplessly watching the kiss unfold.

Dan stalked out of the door of the ballroom, unable to rid himself of the image of Blair in the arms of Bass. The air was cold on the terrace and bare of company. He strode down the steps onto the grass, wanting to just keep walking away from the party, and all it contained, but that was an impossibility. The sound of the door close behind him made him turn. Blair stood there, her beaded dress glinting in the moonlight. She had followed him outside. "Humphrey? What are you doing out here? I thought we were going to dance again."

"I don't feel like dancing. I'd like to be alone." He knew he had no right to be so angry with her, but he couldn't help the feeling of betrayal, of hurt.

"I don't know what your problem is. Why all the gloom?" Her silken tones seemed at odds with the agitation he was feeling.

"I don't have a problem." His words came out far harsher than he intended.

She walked languidly down the stairs and stopped before him. "Just enjoying the night air are we?"

"How could you kiss him?" The words tore out of his chest before he could stop them.

"I don't see what business it is of yours, but it's just a new years kiss, Humphrey, sweet and meaningless."

"It didn't look meaningless."

She looked archly up at him, her breath misty in the cold air. "You read meaning into everything. I doubt you've hardly touched a girl, let alone kissed her." Dan remained silent, the truth of her words increasing his unrest. He could feel a tell tale warmth rise up his cheeks, damn them. "Humphrey, it's true! You never plucked the straw from between your teeth to kiss the milkmaid behind the dairy? I knew you lacked gumption."

Dan took a deep breath and spun away from her, walking toward the grove of trees to the left of the terrace.

"How dare you walk away from me!"

He stopped, turning to face her again, finding her closer than he realised. "Why do you care?"

"Listen, it's just kissing, everybody does it."

"Not me." The revelry from the ballroom erupted into distant chaos, an unmelodic rendition of Auld Lang Syne ringing out toward them across the lawn.

She blinked slowly at him, her eyes reflecting the clear moonlight, her milk white skin glowing and rosy from the chilly air. Dan could see the goose pimples rising on her upper arms. "Look, it's cold, you'll catch a chill. You should go in."

"I've drunk to much champagne for that." She giggled.

"Blair…" He couldn't make out why she was so determined to torment him.

"I'm not going in until I prove my point." She stepped closer to him, as close as if they were dancing, her face turned up to his. His breath caught, he could see every lash on her deep pansy eyes, the velvet roses on her cheeks begging to be caressed.

"For God's sake, why can't you just kiss a girl?" Her fingers gripped his lapel and tugged him toward her, forcing his lips to meet hers, the urgency of her movements startling him. Dan hesitated in his confusion and she pulled her head away, disbelief and offense mixed equally on her features. "You have a lot to learn, Humphrey, I am unimpressed." She turned away, ready to stalk back to the house.

Dan took her shoulders to stop her walking off. "Blair… I'm sorry."

She spun back towards him, her face a mask. "You couldn't wait to get rid of me and now you're making me stay? You are clueless."

He pulled her to him, her rigid body unyielding. She stared sullenly up at him and it took all his liquid courage to make his hand cup her chin and lower his mouth to hers. Blair's head bent back as his hand moved to her hair, pushing the sleek curls behind her ear, fingers tracing over her skin. His other hand moved down the long exposed column of her back, pressing her closer. Her arms coiled around his neck, her slender body relaxing against his, melting into him, fingers twisting into his hair. The kiss grew deeper, her lips unfurling beneath his. Dan felt his body flame against hers and pulled away, catching his breath.

She opened her eyes slowly, looking up at him through her lashes, biting her lower lip. "See what you've been missing out on, Humphrey? You shouldn't find it so hard next time."

He shook his head, wordlessly. Blair withdrew her hands from his shoulders and ran a soft finger across his lips. "Now you can stop just writing about girls."

Perplexity crossed his face. "What…?"

"You shouldn't leave your journal out for any Tom, Dick or Harry, Humphrey, if you don't want it to be read." Dan shifted in discomfort.

Her lip curled up, "I couldn't read very much. You only left it in the library with me for a short while, but I assumed it must have been a invitation to read it." She stepped away from him, smoothing her hair. "But your words are trite, Daniel."

Blair twirled around and made her way back toward the bright lights glowing from the windows. He watched the line of her lithe graceful figure make it's way up the steps. She didn't look back once.

Dan thrust his hands into his pockets as she disappeared from his vision, looking up to the sky in wonder and dismay. Out of all the stupid things he could do, he had to choose falling for Blair Waldorf.

_xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox_

On her return to the city, Blair found her thought's constantly revisiting the rest of her stay at Eagle's Nest. It had been a delightful interlude, motoring during the day, dancing and music in the evenings, she had been constantly entertained. Her relationship with Dan had fallen back into its usual sharp, slightly uneasy pattern, but she noticed a reservation from him, something that had never been a factor before. He seemed wary of her, never allowing himself to be alone with her.

He thought she was fast, kissing two men in one night, she just knew it. Blair tossed her head at the thought, he had no right to judge her. It was just part of the education of Humphrey; he should be grateful to her. Not look at her out of the corner of his eye, in a way that made her revisit their moment on the lawn, wondering, always wondering, what was going through his head. She would feel a surge of irritation, why did she care so much about his opinion? She had goaded him into kissing her, something she never would have considered if she hadn't been so influenced by champagne.

Serena and Blair had arrived back at the penthouse to find all their new purchases and Christmas presents arranged to their directions. The pictures that had arrived from France were still wrapped in their packaging ready for Blair to direct Vanya in their arrangement on the walls. Dorota had settled in during their absence, following the list Blair had left her in regards to their party to the letter. There was little left for either of them to do but Blair spent the days leading up to the event double checking all of Dorota's arrangements, giving in to her whimsy and generally driving the other residents of the apartment to distraction.

She had achieved perfection however, Blair felt pride as she surveyed the crowded apartment. She sauntered through the rooms, the gracious hostess, smiling at the attendee's while keeping an eye out for her friends. Serena was ruling the dance floor they had created by clearing out the furniture from the dining room. Nate was with her and the picture they made between them was all golden glory. Chuck was sitting in the lounge; he raised his glass to her in a silent toast as she glanced over at him. She had to return the smile but she didn't pause to talk to him. His help in obtaining the necessary lubrication for the party had put her in complete charity with him, she didn't count it as cheating on the promise she'd made her mother, and the next semester didn't start for another week.

Blair had completed her circuit of the rooms without seeing Humphrey at all. It should be completely impossible that he would fail to attend, after the express invitation she had sent him, with a hand written postscript, no less, but the night was beginning to grow old and she hadn't yet seen sight or sign of him. She began to mentally compose a message to him, describing his failings, and the words came so sweetly she just had to jot them down in case she failed to recall them the following day. She made her way up the stairs toward her study and was surprised to see a light glowing from under the door. If anyone was using her library for a private petting party, they were about to get a rude awakening. She opened the door, scowl in place and forceful words ready on her lips but stopped abruptly when she realised it was Dan, alone, reading in the bright glow of the lamp. He sat at her desk, eyes intent on the open book in front of him, his unruly hair over his eyes, escaping, as always, from the pomade he tried to control it with.

He must have felt her presence as he looked up, his expression becoming sheepish in the direct light. "Blair…hi…sorry, you startled me."

"Humphrey, why in heavens name are you hiding here?"

He looked down at the pages in front of him. "Uh, I got lost…and then I got distracted."

"By what? Surely there's enough to distract you downstairs."

A faint blush spread across his cheeks. "Nothing, just randomly looking at your book collection…can I escort you back down?"

"What are you reading?"

"Not important." He pushed the book under the magazines next to him and stood up. "Will you come downstairs and dance with me? Or have a drink?"

Blair's eyes narrowed. "Stop trying to divert me. What are you up to?"

Dan grew pinker. "Let's just go."

Instead of replying she pushed him aside and turned over the magazines on the desk. Beneath them lay the leather bound book, face down_. _"What are you thinking? You'll dog-ear the pages. Is this how you treat your own books?" Blair snatched it up, smoothing a crease in the page before she realised it was her own prized copy of _Lady Chatterley's Lover. _"Oh…"

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have been in here, but…I uh, saw it there and I…couldn't help myself, sorry. Uh…how did you get a copy?"

Blair face took on the hue of Dan's own. "That's none of your beeswax… You shouldn't be in here."

"I'm sorry, I just took a look at it and before I knew it, it had me hooked." He looked intently at her. "I want to read it and…can I borrow it?"

"Absolutely not. There is no way this is leaving my study."

"I'd take care of it, I promise. You can't not let me finish it now I've started, it would be the ultimate in cruelty."

"How well you understand me, Humphrey. The answer is no."

Dan raised his eyebrows in resignation. "OK… Miss Selfish. I thought books were meant to be shared?"

"Not this book." She looked down, noting the page he was up to. The speed at which he read didn't really surprise her but the fact that he had already reached some of the more salacious parts of the novel made her face flame further. An unbidden image of him flitted across her mind, standing in the moonlight with his head bent toward her, his thumb caressing the bare skin of her back. She snapped the book closed and marched over to the shelf, replacing it in the space it belonged.

She turned back to him, refusing to meet his eyes. "Now, I think I'll have to take you up on that dance," her tones turned acidic, "as it's the first time you've asked me, and I hear the band starting something suitable." Blair held out her arm and Dan slipped it through his, to escort her back downstairs.

The dance floor was crowded but they took their place just as she deflected his renewed plea to borrow the book. "Just overnight, I'll return it directly to you first thing in the..." His words trailed off under the strength of her glare. "How many books have you started that you haven't been able to finish?" She recognised his change of tack, trying to use guilt to sway her.

Her response was to the point. "Well, Dorota lost my copy of _Emily of New Moon, _but I made her replace it out of her wages, so I only had to wait a day or two to finish it. And then my father…." She paused, the flush returning to her cheeks.

"Your father?"

"OK, Humphrey, I'll make a deal with you. You can't borrow it, I won't let it leave the house, but I suppose I can let you read it here under my supervision." Blair felt a little vexed at herself, in allowing his ploy to succeed.

A smile spread across his features. "Really? Can I go and keep reading it now?"

Blair rolled her eyes. "Get that fatuous grin off your face. Have I taught you nothing? You're at a social event. My social event, in fact, and I find it beyond rude that you would abandon me in the middle of a dance floor for a book."

Dan had the grace to at least look a little embarrassed. "I didn't mean that! I wouldn't just leave someone mid foxtrot to go and read a book." Blair raised her brows, clearly communicating her disbelief.

"Well, I wouldn't abandon you." His eyes twinkled. "Uh…I'd at least deliberately mess up the steps to make you ditch me."

The amusement she felt softened her words. "Don't even think about it, Humphrey." He smiled and didn't reply. She looked suspiciously down at his feet. "I don't trust you."

"Waldorf, my eyes." She looked up to find said eyes creased with mirth. "OK, so when can I come and read it? Tomorrow?"

"No, I think you should sweat over it a little. Next Thursday afternoon."

Dan widened his eyes, mockingly, acknowledging her caprice. "You don't have to punish me for teasing you."

Her return gaze was guileless. "I don't know what you mean. Thursday is just when it will be convenient for me. And when you come, I insist you wear gloves before I allow you to handle it. And don't breathe on it."

"I know how to treat a book, Waldorf."

"I disagree, a good book is like a lady and it deserves reverence. Clearly you have a lot to learn in that department. Besides, I'll have you know, that is a first edition and, once the censorship board comes to it's senses, it will be worth a fortune. It doesn't need your grubby fingerprints all over it."

Dan nodded solemnly. "Your terms are accepted." Blair felt a little irked by his capitulation, having hoped to provoke another rejoinder from him. Evidently he was unwilling to push it further, in case she retracted her offer.

They fell silent and progressed around the dance floor, Blair noting with gratification how easily their feet moved together. "You have been practicing, Humphrey. I'll have you performing in music halls in no time."

He ignored her jibe and harked back to their earlier conversation. "Finish what you were going to say about your father before."

"No, it doesn't matter."

"It made you change your mind about me reading the book, I want to know why. Tell me?" Blair looked candidly up at him, his deep confiding tones sparking an unfamiliar response within her. His eyes had lost their teasing glint and peered down at her in complete sincerity.

She dropped her eyes under his appraising look, warmth covering her cheeks once more. "Very well. My father found me reading his copy of _Fanny Hill_, when I was 13. He confiscated it immediately and I've never been able to lay my hands on it again, despite many disappointing attempts to. I'd give my right arm to finish it."

Dan whistled under his breath. "At 13? No wonder he confiscated it. But at least you can sympathise with me."

"I don't know if you could call it sympathy, but yes," the derisive sparkle returned to her eyes, "I generally feel sorry for you."

His laughter rang out loudly. "If your pity gives me access to your bookshelf then I can be the sorriest specimen of a person you ever met."

"You are already that, and the fact that I have just given you three dances in a row will start making my guests feel sorry for me. We are done now, please escort me over to Serena." She gestured toward the blonde girl holding court amongst an enraptured gathering of sharply dressed gentlemen. "And then you can take yourself off, I care not where, as long as it's not my library."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N's This is posted a little later than I hoped, due to festive distractions and a muse who won't materialise on demand. I do hope, my very dear readers and reviewers, that you're prepared for a pretty long story as it's kind of surprised me to be at this number of words and only as far as I am into the this tale. **

Dan couldn't believe the situation he'd placed himself in. He had done all he could to avoid Blair and now here he was preparing to go to her house in order to read explicit literature in her company. The level of discomfort he knew it would create for him almost made him cancel, finding any possible excuse. He didn't have one; he had no classes that afternoon and he could hardly say that he had to study, he knew Blair would simply say he had appalling time management and would never give him another opportunity to read the novel, ever again. But the way she was getting under his skin made him continually hesitate. He always felt as if he were some of prey, they she was just toying with. His hands continued to calmly dress himself for his excursion despite the furious debate in his mind.

He almost asked for Nate's counsel but stopped himself as he realised it would require him to be far more honest than he was prepared to be. That speaking of the feeling that was growing inside him would lay it bare all the ridicule and impossibility that it deserved.

Dan left the Hall to find the weather growing steadily worse. He wondered whether she would actually expect him to still come. Her new apartment wasn't that far from Columbia but the freezing wind made the walk difficult. The light was growing dim and the persistent drizzle seemed to soak straight through him, despite the umbrella he carried. By the time he reached her apartment he felt chilled to the bone.

Blair's expression when he came through the door made him chuckle. He knew he had rugged up, the mountain of scarves he had wrapped around himself to keep out the cold began to smother him in the warmth of the apartment and he began to unravel them from his self under her bemused gaze.

"Oh, there you are, Humphrey. I thought Dorota must have been collecting rags for charity again. You're late." Her wool jersey sweater and skirt clung to her form, the red stripes matching the cherry of her lips. Her composure always delighted him.

"I had a good reason." He dripped onto the floor as Vanya attended him, assisting him out of his over coat.

Blair's critical eyes surveyed him. "It looks like you swam here."

"I almost did, there wasn't a cab to be found. I confess, I nearly didn't come, the weather looked so threatening."

She tilted her head to the side, dark curls swinging over her eyes, "The enticement of the book won out then."

"You could say that."

She took him by the arm and led him toward the stairs. "There's a fire in my study, you can dry out there."

The study was warm and brightly lit, a crackling fire on the hearth. Two plush leather chairs sat before it, a table between them on which the book he had come to read lay arranged with mathematical precision. She ran her finger lightly over the cover.

"You better have bought those gloves."

He reached into his pocket, producing the white gloves she had insisted on, pulling them deliberately onto his hands. "I keep my word."

"So do I." She passed him the book as he stood with his back to the fire, feeling the chill that had accompanied him indoors seeping from his body. The novel was warm to touch from the heat coming from the hearth. Failing to recall the page he'd been up to, Dan began to flick through the pages trying to find his place. He found it easily; Blair had placed a bookmark in the place he'd been up to when she interrupted him this very room. It made his lips quirk, her attention to detail; that even while she was berating him, she could be so disarmingly considerate. He sat down in his chair, holding the book thoughtfully in his hands, and glanced over at Blair. She was watching him intently. "If you're going to just sit there and watch me there's no way I can read, Waldorf."

Her mouth twisted in the manner that he knew promised a biting retort and she was savouring its sting before she delivered it. "You can't read in the company of others? So, what have you been doing in the library, mooning at the page?"

"Do you see other people reading as a form of performance art? Or were you expecting me to read to you?" He smiled slowly. "Because I can tell you now, that's not going to happen."

She returned his gaze for a second, an unreadable expression crossing her face. "Do you think I have time for that? I have reading to do." She stood up and walked purposefully to her desk, gathering up a pile of letters and magazines and bringing them back to her chair, giving her characteristic, delicate 'ahem' that signalled her intention to focus as she sat back down.

The weather seemed to be settling in and the drizzle that had beleaguered Dan on his walk was changing into something more menacing. He could see the tree tops dance in the wind through the window, and the rain began to beat persistently against the glass. The afternoon light dimmed and faded as he watched.

He looked back down at the book as Blair rustled her papers. He really didn't know how he could concentrate on the words before him. It was as if she could read the thoughts that had been brewing in his head about her, and had designed this entire scenario to expressly plague him. Usually he could read in any circumstance, falling naturally into the narrative. But, for once, he was more interested in the living, breathing person before him than he could be in any written word. He wished he could pull out his notebook and jot down the absurdity of the situation, but that would never do. He would have to pretend to be absorbed.

The door opened and Blair's companion, Dorota, appearing wheeling a laden tea trolley arrayed with pastel petite fours and delicate sandwiches, with a teapot steaming, two cups laid out beside it.

"Thank you, Dorota, you can leave us now." Blair's brow furrowed as Dorota hesitated by the door and opening her mouth. She cut her off before she could voice a word. "Dorota, you do notice that's there's only two cups? Leave us."

The expression of suspicion that crossed the older woman's face as she closed the door almost made Dan chuckle aloud. Instead he cast his amused eye over the tiered cake stand. "Waldorf, the civility is overwhelming. Is Lady Chatterley coming herself?"

Blair looked witheringly at him. "You clearly don't deserve any of this. It's for me to enjoy while I keep my eye on you."

She picked up a green iced cake, placing it on her plate and picked up her fork, taking an infinitesimal portion of it, lifting it to her lips. Her demure manner became palpably more exaggerated as he watched her. Clearly demonstrating the required standard of etiquette for his benefit.

He placed the book on the table and pulled his gloves off, snaking his hand out to sneak a cake from the tiered stand. Just catching her eye, he poked the whole thing into his mouth.

Her jaw dropped. "Do you think I went through two years of finishing school to be subjected to manners like that?"

"If you're going to treat me like a peasant, I may as well take full advantage of it." He wiped his lips with his fingers, the food in his mouth muffling his words, "mmmmm…delicious." His hand shot out, snatching another cake, cramming it between his lips.

Blair shot him another outraged expression and rolled the tray out of his reach. "I suppose I can't expect any better from someone raised in a barn. I must rise above it. Do not get cake on my book or I will strangle you. How do you take your tea?" She lifted the teapot preparing to pour.

"Black, no sugar."

"Presuming you can't afford milk or sugar."

He laughed. "One becomes accustomed to life's limitations and reduces their needs accordingly. But I can't imagine that has ever concerned you."

She narrowed her eyes at him but whatever words were to accompany the look were lost in a loud crack of thunder, the sky outside the window lighting up. Blair jumped up, a delighted smile replacing the barbed expression, her magazines dropping from her lap. "Oh, a thunder storm! I just adore them." Her fingers pressed against the windowpane and Dan had to restrain his compulsion to join her, instead watching her slim figure outlined against the illuminated clouds.

His brain stalled at the sight of the magazine on the floor. It was the January edition of _Vanity Fair, _the one containing his story. Of course she would read the publication, but when he submitted it he could never have possibly imagined that he would grow so acquainted with her, that she might read it and connect it with him. She couldn't read it now, not in his presence, she would realise it was about her and Serena for sure. Dan's foot crept forward and nudged the magazine under her chair, hiding it from sight. It would win him a brief reprieve at least. It would never do to let her know how much she inspired him.

A louder crack of thunder sounded near them and the room plunged into darkness. Blair gave a squeak of dismay and turned from the window, feeling her way back toward Dan. "This is most inconvenient."

Dan rose from his chair, holding out his hand to guide her. "Stay there, Humphrey, I don't want you blundering around, knocking things over." She took his hand nonetheless, the warmth from her fingers tingling in his palm. He stepped over the magazines she had dropped, and led her to the circle of light in front of the hearth.

The intermittent lightening lit up the room, lending an eerie quality to the atmosphere. Blair stood before him, her hand still in his. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Don't move. I'll get some candles." She stayed still though, looking up to Dan's face with fathomless eyes. Her proximity was overwhelming, the intimacy of the situation flooding his senses. It would be so easy to lower his mouth to hers, just a few small inches and her lips would be his.

Steps sounded at the door and Blair dropped Dan's hand, turning away from him. Serena burst in, holding a candle, the flickering flame casting a golden glow over her face. "There's a black out!"

"Really, Serena, how observant of you." Blair's words came wryly. He couldn't see her face but he could picture her expression anyway.

The blonde girl laughed. "Well, you can't continue your tête-à-tête now, so you'll have to come downstairs and entertain me."

"This is not a tête-à-tête!" The words flew from Blair's lips.

"Well, whatever you call it, you must downstairs, Dorota and Vanya are lighting candles so we don't have to sit in the dark."

Dan found his voice. "I should really go, before it gets too bad."

Blair turned to him, her expression guarded. "It's impossible to go anywhere in this weather, Humphrey. I can't have you being hit by lightning. Or taking tuberculosis and going into a decline. At least not before you get to finish the book, I couldn't live with the guilt."

Serena's words added to Blair's argument. "And you can't leave us with only Dorota and Vanya for company. I'll die of boredom."

_xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox_

The room was massed with candles, flaming on every surface. It pleased Blair that the supply of Cire Trudon candles that she had sent over from Paris had come in so handy. The sweet scent permeated the room.

The five of them sat comfortably around the living room, listening to the rumble of the storm outside. The rain had not abated but the walls that cocooned them were warm and tight. Dan sat across from her but it seemed every time she looked at him he was engaged elsewhere. She closed her eyes. Damn Serena's intrusion. Blair was sure that Dan had been about to kiss her. She had been so single-mindedly focussing on his lips that he must have understood her desire. But she had been clear to Serena that her interest in Dan was purely philanthropic, of course her friend would have had no qualms about interrupting them. And what Blair had told her was true, her interest went no deeper, it was just that the little quirk he gave his lips reminded her of how kissable they were. The situation had been so romantic it would have been criminal not to take advantage of it.

"This is deadly." Serena's restless words interrupted Blair's reverie. "We can't even dance, the victrola won't work with the power out. Blair, play the piano, or something, before I go mad."

Blair sighed and peeled herself off the sofa, taking a seat at the baby grand. She lifted the lid and arranged the candles so they shed light onto the keys. She didn't particularly enjoy playing but had mastered the instrument anyway, preferring it to the other drawing room accomplishments she had forced upon her at school. The music on the stand was an older piece, a waltz, and its poignancy suited Blair's mood. Her fingers traced the familiar fingering, taking pleasure from the rich tones of the music enveloping her.

Serena moved to stand beside her. "This old thing! B, play something faster."

Blair shook her head. "I don't want to."

The tall girl sighed. "Very inconsiderate, I feel. Can you waltz, Daniel?"

His words came slowly, distractedly. "If I have to. I'd prefer just to sit and listen though."

Serena pulled him to his feet, giving him her most persuasive glance. "I refuse to allow you."

Blair glanced across at them, her familiarity with the music allowing her to look away from the sheet before her. Serena's face aglow in the golden light, the grace of her movements almost liquid in the flickering candlelight. Dan's dark face looked down at her, in what she could only suppose was admiration. She had never noticed before how their looks complemented the other, but the aesthetic pleasure she took from the beautiful things around her left her cold for once.

Vanya stood up and held out his hand to Dorota. She looked taken aback for a moment and then a delighted smile lit up her round features. Her hand placed itself in his and they began to circle the room, following in Serena and Dan's wake.

Blair began to feel a pulse of irritation. It didn't suit her to be playing gooseberry, but there was nothing for it. She didn't feel Serena's steps matched Dan's steps as well as her own but no one could dance if her roommate were at the piano. She looked over at the couples to see Serena run her fingers around the back of Dan's neck and the way he smiled back at the blonde girl made Blair miss her fingering, blundering through the passage. Her hands stilled and she stood up. "My fingers are cramping. Let's play Charades."

Serena turned to her, dropping her hands from Dan, her disappointment obvious. "Blair… I'm terrible at it. You know I can never guess anything."

"Dorota can help you, Humphrey and I against you and her."

Serena held firm. "Absolutely not, you'll think of something so hard, I'll need Dan to help me figure it out. I'll partner Dan."

"We'll take turns, you can start with him. Dorota and Vanya can play together, they'll never be able to work it out anyway."

Serena sighed. "God help me, if I have to play, I'm having a drink. Anyone else?"

Blair nodded. "Yes, please, a whisky and soda and, Dorota, fetch the sandwiches from upstairs."

Dorota took a candle and walked upstairs as Blair stepped away from the piano to find some paper and pencils to write the clues on. The sandwiches were arranged on the table as Serena delivered a generous drink to each of the company.

They arranged themselves into their teams and Serena and Dan sat together on the sofa, talking in low voices before Dan leant forward to write the first clue. He bypassed Blair's outstretched fingers, "no, this one's for you to guess," and placed the folded slip in Dorota's hand.

Dorota giggled when she opened the paper, showing it to Vanya, watching the grin crease his face. Blair averted her head as they whispered together, feeling exasperation. This was an unusually poor idea; she should have suggested Mah Jong. They seemed to be disputing who would perform the charade, until Dorota pushed the footman out of his chair, smiling ingenuously up at him.

He sighed and mimed a curtain opening.

"A play." Blair's tones signalling her resignation. Vanya held up 5 fingers. "Five words." He nodded, folding in three digits, "second word."

Vanya leapt into action, lashing an imaginary whip as he took tentative steps forward. He picked up a chair and began to poke it in the air. It was obvious. "Lion tamer." Vanya nodded wildly, waving his hands. Blair felt like she was watching a clown show. "Move on to another word, Vanya."

He held up his hand again. Blair noted the 5 fingers. "Fifth word." He began to screw up his face, holding his hands before his body as if they were paws and scurrying around the room. "Rabbit…no, mouse…shrew. _The Taming of the Shrew, _Humphrey, I know this is your doing," Dan and Serena were almost crying with laughter, galling her. "Serena doesn't even know who Shakespeare is."

Serena's face stilled. "I resent that, Blair. I happen to love Romeo and Juliet."

"Whatever." Blair picked up her pencil and scribbled down the next clue, completely ignoring the rest of her team.

Dan rolled his eyes when he opened the slip of paper. "Waldorf, that's too hard!"

"Like most things are for you, Humphrey, go on, it's the rules and we have all night. I'm ready to be entertained."

He sighed. "OK, but I really think this is impossible."

He turned to face Serena and began to mime, pausing every now and again to scratch his head. Serena watched his movements. "A book, six words, sixth word."

Dan nodded and began to sashay across the floor flicking imaginary hair and fluttering his lashes. Blair's lips twitched.

Serena furrowed her brow. "Um…prancing… a lady…girl…woman." Dan stopped and smiled at the blonde. She clapped. "Is it _Little Women_?"

Blair made an exasperated sound. "S, six words?"

"Give me a chance." She focussed back on Dan. "Fourth word. Uh…a tick…a cross?" She watched his flailing arms. "You're going too fast! Um…left hand…right hand….right? Right! So, it's something, something, something, right, something, woman?"

The next word seemed to have Dan stumped. He held up one finger, indicating the first word. Blair could hear his mental stutter as clearly as if it were on his lips. Her mouth curled.

"I'm going to try a different tack." Dan began to walk back and forth, waving his fist in the air, stopping every now and again to pretend to powder his nose. His face started to take on a slightly desperate cast.

"I'm never going to get this, I told you I was terrible." Serena began to look upset, making Blair feel a pang of remorse. "Marching? _Middlemarch_? No, I know, Blair, six words." Her beautiful face creased in thought. "I have it!" A joyous smile signalled her comprehension. "Only…I can't think…its Mary Wollstonecraft…something of the rights of women? Dan! You were so good!" She held out her hand and Daniel took it in his own, in a victorious handshake.

Blair raised her brows. "Vindication. And I don't think the suffragettes behaved quite like that, but I could be wrong, Humphrey here is quite the expert on that topic. Now it's my turn."

Dan wrote the next clue he and Serena chose and passed Blair the slip of paper. _Heart of Darkness. _She looked quellingly at the giggling pair on the sofa. It should be easy, but she was basically performing for the hired help so who knew how long this would take.

She raised three fingers and then held her hands as if a book were resting in them. Dorota and Vanya nodded eagerly, their bodies almost touching on the couch. She held up three fingers again signifying the third word and walked over to the piano, blowing out all the candles in one long steady breath. She picked up one of the candles and returned to stand in the middle of the room.

Vanya's face held a perplexed expression. "Blowing out candles?"

Blair rolled her eyes, holding one finger up and then placed her fist over her heart. She was met with silence. She looked over to Dan, his eyes were unreadable but they returned her gaze intently.

"I really can't make this any simpler." She picked up another candle and extinguished the flame and held it positioned over her left breast.

Dorota shook her head. "Dark heart? I do not know this book." Blair's dissatisfaction increased. Charades with the illiterate was impossible.

Dan put his drink down. "I think that's close enough. Nice work, Waldorf, anyone who knew that book would have guessed it. I can't say I'm surprised that you'd have such an affinity with it."

Blair's scornful eyes flashed at him. She picked up her pencil once more, Dorota and Vanya peering over her shoulder so they could see the words she wrote. She folded it and passed it to Serena. The blonde raised her eyebrow and looked disbelievingly at Blair, who merely took a sip of her drink and returned the gaze with steady composure.

Serena lifted her chin with grace and paused for a moment before establishing for Dan that two words made up the title of the book. She loosened her limbs, an adorably witless expression settling on her face, letting her chin drop so her mouth fell open. She began to shuffle across the room tripping over her own feet.

Dan watched her for a moment and then turned to Blair with an acute expression. "_The Idiot, _Dostoevsky. I get it, Waldorf." Her lips curled into a small smile.

They swapped teams and the next round passed slowly, the consumption of the sandwich platter and refreshed drinks interrupting them. The obscure Polish literature reference provided by Dorota and Vanya stumped Dan completely, despite Blair's best efforts to communicate it. They in turn guessed _The_ _Three Musketeers _fairly quickly, Serena taking obvious enjoyment from her swashbuckling mime. Dorota and Vanya's shared portrayal of _Crime and Punishment _was an exercise in hilarity, and finally, Dan's attempt at 'wuthering' left them all breathless with mirth.

The sound of the rain had ceased completely, leaving the apartment strangely quiet in the aftermath of their laughter. Dan took his seat back in his place next to Blair and she looked across at him, her eyes dancing.

"You could never be a Heathcliff. You'd be a far better Edgar."

He smiled. "I don't think you'd find me in a Bronte novel at all."

She pursed her lips to control the quiver of amusement. "No, I hate to admit it, but you're right. You are more Dickensian. I'm sure you're only a generation or two removed from the workhouse."

Dan gave a snort of laughter. "It's definitely time for me to go." He drained his glass and stood up, directing his easy smile at the rest of the company. "The rain's stopped and if I don't go now, I won't be able to get back into the Hall." Vanya hurried over to collect his now dry overcoat, holding it ready for him to slip his arms into.

Blair walked across to the window and opened the curtain to see how the weather faired. It looked as though the storm had mostly passed but it hadn't really ceased to rain. She hesitated between insisting he stay, or sending Vanya out to find him a taxi, or just hounding his departure. In the end it was Serena who made the decision for her.

"It's late, Dan, and the weather is still bad, you should stay the night."

Dan looked warily across to Blair, then back to Serena and shook his head. "Thank you, you are kind, but I definitely shouldn't be doing that." He began to wind the multitude of scarves he'd arrived in back around his neck.

Serena reached up to help him arrange the scarves more neatly. "It's so dark out there, you could be mugged, or worse."

The silky tones of Blair's words were laced with barely masked disdain. "Don't worry, S, people will be more likely to try to give Humphrey money than take it from him."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N's this is much later than I ever intended, many apologies. Holidays have had a soporific effect on my writing and, as much as I have thought about this story, my motivation to put fingers to keyboard has been low. But after a fair bit of re-evaluating, I think I'm back on track. Thanks, as always, to my reviewers, favouriters, alerters and general readers. **

**And these characters belong to Cecily and etc.**

* * *

><p>Dan's journey home from Blair and Serena's was uneventful. The streets were empty, unsurprisingly, given the late hour and the still violent weather. But the night was strangely welcoming, clearing his head and allowing him to look at the peculiarities of his relationship with Blair with some kind of clarity. He was nigh on in love with her, despite all his best efforts to prevent himself. How she felt, he didn't know. Only she couldn't help but torment him, from whatever unholy force motivated her.<p>

He had wanted to kiss her, damn Serena's intrusion, and it seemed she wanted to be kissed by him, despite her every word indicating the opposite. That was all it could be. Girls like Blair Waldorf did not end up with nobodies like Dan Humphrey. They married aristocrats or millionaires, not struggling writers who couldn't even afford the shirt on their back. He had been foolish, squandering his funds trying to impress her when he should have been focusing, saving, writing, and keeping his eye on the prize. What had he to offer her? Less than nothing. He had just turned 20 years old; his possessions amounted to a collection of books and two decent suits.

If she was interested in him at all then she wasn't as clever as he thought she was. And he knew she was, so the only answer could be that she was playing mind games with him. The thought was as terrifying as it should have been. She was like some kind of Medea and, if he kept seeing her, pieces of his dismembered body would be sure to start showing up in various places. He did his best to keep his head with her, to not react, to play the nonchalant sparring partner but just when he thought he might have her measure, she changed the stakes on him again. He had lost track of how many people she was.

He wanted to get closer to her, but every time he felt like he was getting under her skin, she would shut him down. Neither of them could relax in the other's company. The one upmanship was getting tiresome, sometimes, most of the time, all he wanted to do was just pull her to him and quieten her lips with his own, checking to see if she tasted as sharp as she sounded.

So, he would avoid her, seriously this time. But the article in _Vanity Fair_! He hoped she wouldn't read it, or at least would fail to connect it with him. It was unlikely, however much he wished it. She was far too quick witted to fail to absorb the 'Humphrey' attached to the authors name and the context of the writing. If he was going to continue to write about friends and acquaintances, he really should find a suitable nom de plume.

Dan wondered at the speed he'd returned to campus. His feet had eaten up the distance, mindlessly guiding his way, while his brain constantly rotated through the same thought pattern. He walked straight up to his room and found a notebook, recounting the evening's episode as thoroughly as he could, all the while broadening his character study of Blair. There was no point even attempting to go to bed, he may as well spend the time fruitfully, rather than tossing and turning himself into an even greater state of wakefulness.

_xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox_

Blair looked out of her bedroom window on the morning of the day following the black out. It was grey and miserable, the sodden streets reflecting her grim mood. Her thoughts strayed to Dan and she twitched involuntarily, the unsubtlety of her actions the night before making her feel a quiver of something close to remorse. Her brow puckered over the thought of whether he got home safely. She shook her head, vowing to put all thoughts of him aside, to remove all vestiges of him from her mind.

She made her way downstairs in her robe, the heavy drape of the kimono sleeves trailing over the banister. It was early, no one else yet stirring in the penthouse. She walked through to the kitchen and placed the kettle on the hob, deciding against rousing Dorota to fulfil the duty for her. It pleased Blair to have a moment alone, and savour it, however short it may be.

It lasted almost no time at all. The silence was shattered by the unmistakeable sound of Serena's footsteps coming down the apartment stairs. The girl could do nothing with subtlety. The door to the kitchen flew open and she walked, or more accurately, stormed in, an incensed expression hardening her pretty features. Blair looked appraisingly across at her, she had seen her friend angry before but never had her scowls been directed toward herself.

Serena's words cut straight to the point. "You didn't have to make me look like a fool in front of Dan last night, Blair."

Blair raised her brow, unrepentant. "I wasn't trying to make you look like an idiot. I was proving a point to Dan."

"At my expense?"

"Serena, it's impossible for you to look bad. Even if I had wanted to, it would never take. People only have to see you to admire you. Humphrey just needed to be taken down a peg or two."

"I don't know what you mean by that, I thought he was your friend, our friend?"

"He's Nate's friend, not mine nor yours"

Serena rolled her eyes. "Speak for yourself. So what was the point of yesterday's ridiculous exercise then?"

Blair found herself at a loss for a response. She knew she had wanted to goad Humphrey into kissing her again. For all the failed attempts to push the thought aside, the whole hospitable arrangement she had overseen had purely one aim in mind. It would never do to say it aloud.

Serena took it upon herself to fill the silence. "You know, you say the most horrible things to him, I wonder he can bear it."

Blair's chest swelled defensively. "I do not say horrible things to him!"

"You do! You keep telling me he's just a charity case, but I like him, and I know you do too, he's charming and clever."

"He is not charming and he is not clever. There is no way in the world he is good enough for you, Serena."

"What are you talking about? I only said I enjoy his company, not that I want to marry him...or even kiss him. He certainly doesn't want to kiss me. Are you just be stringing him along for some perverse form of entertainment, B?"

"S, you're over complicating it."

"No, it's simple. Every single time we go out, your eyes scan the room for him. If you don't see him, the night becomes instantly tedious and you say you've never seen such a sad affair. If you do see him, you spend the rest of the evening badgering him, being as rude as you possibly can. I cannot understand how in the world he could like you, the way you behave toward him, but he does."

"How dare you suggest such a thing! I don't look for him at all!"

"You can protest all you like, B, but you were determined to punish me for engaging him in nothing but the most innocent flirting. Why so worked up anyway? He's not from your world, which I know means everything to you, so it doesn't matter how much you like him, it can never go anywhere. You may as well just have an affair with him and get him out of your system."

The simple force of Serena's words shocked Blair and it took her a few moments to collect herself for a reply. "I can't listen to any more of this. Don't talk to me about Daniel Humphrey, Serena, ever again. He isn't worth your time or my time, in fact, I wonder that Nate even tolerates him. I won't be seeing him again."

Blair marched out of the kitchen and up the stairs, refusing to look back at her friend, anger mounting by the second. How dare she make such judgements, such assumptions. The door to the study slammed satisfyingly behind her and she stopped abruptly, leaning back against the still rattling wood. Her eyes fell on the abandoned copy of _Lady Chatterley's Lover. _Serena had just ensured Humphrey would never get another opportunity to read it, ever again. She pushed aside the pang the thought gave her and walked toward her desk under the window.

The pile of magazines on the floor nearly tripped her and her fury grew to include Dorota as well. She lived with a collection of fools and slobs. Blair almost raised her voice to command someone attend to her immediately but stayed the words. She had little desire to have anyone disturb the sanctuary of her study, sullying the small vestige of peace she could aspire to between its cosy walls. She knelt delicately down to pick up the fallen papers and journals and stacked them up haphazardly on the chair beside her. It shifted a little as she leaned against it to stand up, revealing the corner of a hidden magazine wedged beneath it. Her _Vanity Fair. _The blue-garbed figure on the front reminded her of the story she had been half-heartedly reading the previous evening. Not a word of it had been retained in her head, the proximity of Humphrey making it all but impossible to concentrate on anything else.

She sat down in the seat Dan had occupied the previous evening and opened the magazine in an attempt to distract herself with the article, glancing down the table of contents. It took less than a second for her eyes to arrive on the _D. R. Humphrey – Modern Girls. _It couldn't be.

Blair knew Dan wrote compulsively, he was forever pulling out his notebook, enigmatically, and annoyingly, making notes. She had never imagined that he could be been published, or that _Vanity Fair _of all journals would even consider his work, but this D. R. Humphrey just had to be him. As her eager eyes devoured the words she became convinced it was his, and more, it was about Serena and herself. Mostly herself, she recognised enough of, what Dan would see as, her own faults and foibles in the dark haired anti-heroine.

As she read, Blair became acutely aware that the fierce ambition of Dan's protagonist matched her own. But where his character knew what she wanted to achieve, Blair could only feel a hunger gnawing in her chest, no proper idea of where to focus it. Her education had only given her a skewed idea that she should be accomplished and polished and clever, all the virtues necessary for a successful marriage. But didn't want to be someone's decorative wife, she wanted to be Dorothy Parker. No, not quite, but she wanted a career, like Eleanor, not to be merely known as a wife and, God forbid, mother. Never before had it spelled out to her so clearly that mere ambition wouldn't suffice, she may as well long to possess the moon; success required purpose and structure.

She finished the article and immediately read it through again. Serena came across as beautiful and whimsical but fundamentally substance-less. Blair knew she had a lot more depth than how she had been portrayed, but it pleased her that Dan didn't see it. Or at least didn't write that he saw it. He painted Serena as blissful and as easy as her name suggested. But his description of the poignancy of her beauty bothered her, unable to ever recognise that any dark haired charm could possibly compete with such golden glory.

Blair placed the magazine in her lap. She felt she should be angry but could only summon the smallest vestige of annoyance. Perhaps if she fed it, fanning the flames; she didn't like how he had portrayed her, a controlling, spiteful protagonist. Who was also witty, ambitious and capable. And worthy. She stood up restlessly. Damn him, no sooner does one cast Dan forth and refuse to think anymore of him, he plays his trump card and is irrevocably imprinted on one's mind.

But it proved, at least, that he thought about her. Had been thinking about her. Blair felt her cheeks flame, a glow of scarcely deniable pleasure rippling through her. Serena's words repeated over and over in her head. _Have an affair and get him out of your system. Have an affair and get him out of your system. _She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, clutching the magazine to her chest.

_xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox_

Dan's ploy to avoid Blair had certainly been materially successful in the weeks since he had visited her but his spirit had been failing spectacularly. She occupied his nearly every waking thought. He had become more hermit-like than ever, which didn't help him. Only a few brief evening sojourns with Nate had lent any colour to his otherwise dull existence.

He was coming to the conclusion that he should maybe just submit and offer himself up as her lap dog. Discard his reservations, and any last vestige of self-respect, and lie prone at her feet to kiss or kick as she saw fit

He shuffled through the letters he had just collected from his pigeonhole. No acceptances, his pen had dried up in the time since he had seen Blair and he had just been submitting old material. It appeared that inspiration and physical contact with his dark haired tormentor had become inexplicably linked.

A letter from his father offered some form of short-term distraction. It was brief and to the point, barely mentioning his recent birthday, instead telling him that his mother's return from Europe had been put off indefinitely and she had been invited to stay in Italy for the time being. Dan hadn't received word from his mother for months but there was a letter addressed to him from her enclosed with his fathers.

_Daniel, _

_Europe is everything I have always dreamed of. I don't feel like I'm being judged and blinkered the way I have felt at home. You know I love you and Jenny and your father, of course, but I feel like I can think here and talk to people who understand me. I can grow, and I can contribute to change. I'm needed…_

Dan felt kind of vacant inside, like he should be angrier with his mother but couldn't muster the required emotions. The letter didn't spell it out but he knew Alison wouldn't be returning home in a hurry. She was 'needed,' but she couldn't see how her family needed her to hold them together. His father's positive words, _temporary _and_ interim,_ just made Dan want to go and shake him. He worried constantly whether Rufus was all right; with Jenny at boarding school and Dan in the city, his father was totally alone.

He began writing a reply to him, beginning several times over. Every word seemed false, stilted; he eventually gave up, penning a brief note and wrapping it up with his copy of _Vanity Fair, _telling Rufus he was just too swamped with college to be able to write a longer letter but he might just find a story in the enclosed magazine interesting.

He had just completed his father's address on the brown paper when Nate's familiar face appeared around Dan's open door. He tried to find a smile but what appeared on his features was more a feeble parody.

Nate's eyes twinkled back at him. "Such a despairing face, Daniel. Well, it won't be once you've heard what I have to tell you."

Dan pushed his chair back from the desk but remained seated. "It had better be good news, I could do with some."

"You can stop moping over depressing literature. I've sorted out all our problems. Seeing Serena and Blair's apartment made me realise how limiting it is being here, so I've rented us our own."

"What?" The implications of Nate's words didn't seem to be possible.

"We have an apartment!"

Dan felt his alarm rise. "Nate. I love the idea but there is no way I can afford to pay half the rent."

"You don't need to, I'll cover it. Your job is to just make sure I still attend classes."

"I can't, Nate, there are few things I'd like more but I can't accept this.

"Think about it, Dan, I'm not going to accept no for an answer, but you don't have to say it now."

Dan shook his head, feeling a flash of irritation at his friend's careless assumption that he would just fall into line with any of his plans. As much as he would like nothing more than to move into an apartment with Nate, there were too many factors working against it. His father would think he'd lost his head and forgotten why he was in New York in the first place. His scholarship wouldn't cover private board and he refused to live on Nate's charity. And the proximity to Blair Waldorf was unthinkable. Nate was almost living in Serena's pocket now days. The only way he had ensured he didn't run into Blair was by constantly declining Nate's invitations to accompany him to various speakeasies and clubs. His only blessing was that women weren't allowed in men's quarters, although he doubted many of his fellow resident's would agree with him. "Nate, I'm serious. I can't. And I won't change my mind you know."

Nate's usually amiable countenance fell into sullen lines. "I thought we were friends, Dan. I thought you'd be as excited about this as I am. You know I value your company. I don't see what your problem is."

"Nate, I appreciate it but it won't do. We're from different places and it's all well and good for us to be friends here in our college dorm but it won't cut it in the real world. You can't just foist some nobody onto your family and your social circle. You really don't know much about me, you know."

"I know all I need to know, Dan. You're a decent man and a good friend. What's wrong with wanting to share things. How much study to you think I'd get done if I lived with Chuck…or Tripp for that matter? I might actually need you, it isn't so one sided."

"I'm sorry, Nate, it'd be different if I could pay my way but I refuse to be beholden to you like this. And you shouldn't ask it of me."

Nate leaned against the door jam, thrusting his hands into his pockets. "You really need to get off that high horse, Daniel. What's the point of having anything if you can't share it with your friends."

"Yeah, but it's meant to go both ways, what have I got to give back."

Nate's smile returned to his face. "You could share some more of your stationary with me?" The serious expression remained on Dan's face and Nate let his grin drop. "OK, I get it, Dan, you know I'm more than disappointed. We could have had a ball and now I'm going to be rambling round some big Upper East Side apartment by myself."

"I'm sorry, Nate, I will not be anymore in debt to you than I already am. Maybe later, if I can get more stories published and afford to pay my way."

"I'll hold you to that. And I expect at least one extended visit every weekend. I've become accustomed to having your ugly mug around."

Dan stood up from his chair. "When do you go?"

"This weekend. I expect your assistance in packing at least."

"Of course." Dan didn't think it was possible but his heart sunk further. It would be dire without Nate's company in the Hall. He made other friends there, but there was no one that offered the easy camaraderie and understanding that he shared with his neighbour. The only upside didn't feel that positive; he'd be able to concentrate more on his writing.

Nate clapped his hands together. "Now come and have a drink with me, while I describe the glories of my new apartment to you in a thinly veiled effort to get you to change your mind. The offer stands, Dan, I hope you remember that."

_xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox_

Blair had initially taken to the library in her quest to hunt down Dan and confront him over his unsolicited literary portrayal of her. Her vigil had been largely unrewarding, except for the quantity of reading she had managed to consume. Serena thought she had run mad, complaining that it was far too early in the semester to kill oneself with study.

She tried a different tack and gave Nate cordial note to give to Dan. The man had promised to see to it. Blair waited for a response, her ever-increasing ire making it near impossible to concentrate on study. She would find herself at her bookshelf, fingers restlessly trailing over the spines, miles away from whatever task was at hand. She finally swallowed her pride and confronted Nate over the lack of response. The useless fool just retrieved the forgotten note from his overcoat pocket with an apologetic smile sitting awkwardly on his face.

So, she made Kati and Penelope stalk Daniel to find out where he had been hiding. After a week they had reported his regimented timetable to her. His habits seemed to be fixed, especially in regard to his time at the library. It couldn't be a coincidence that he only visited it when she had class. Was Serena right? Had she been so insulting to him he had found a disgust for her and thought her amoral and arrogant? Or was it just that he didn't care for her at all, she was mistaken, the story wasn't about her, some other girl who occupied his thoughts?

According to the timetable given to her, Humphrey should be at the library for the two hours she usually had her art history class. She dressed herself carefully, trying to balance her usual chic with something a little more demure, leaving herself plenty of time to make her way to Campus to find a place to lie in wait for him. She tried to wind herself up, to conjure antipathy toward him, telling herself she didn't care, but all she could find was regret that she hadn't treated him a little more carefully before he could be introduced to all the darker facets of her character. It wasn't the mood she wanted to be in when she confronted him, but she had little choice, the window of opportunity was now.

The library was crowded but Penelope had told her exactly where she should be able to find him. Blair had quashed the supercilious smirk the girl had given her along with the information with a frown. She was going to have to find a way to put that girl in her place soon, she was becoming far too insolent for Blair's comfort.

She found Daniel almost immediately and slipped quietly across the room, eyes fixed upon him. His face was more drawn than when she had last seen him, pale and pensive. Broad shoulders bowed toward the bookshelf he perused. Still with the Romantics, but the French this time. She felt something coil tighter in her chest; he should be discussing them with her.

He hadn't noticed her presence so she took a breath and spoke "You've been avoiding me."

Dan spun around at her words. "What? Uh…Blair… no, not at all."

"Yes, you have been. I can never find you in the library and the rest of the time you're sequestered in your dorm. Have you given up on literature and started studying theology? Because, I swear, you'll be fast tracked to sainthood if you keep up this dedication."

A smile twitched in the corner of his mouth and Blair's heart skipped. She hoped that the warmth that flashed into his dark eyes would translate into a rejoinder just for her but he just shook his head and looked to the floor. "I should be so lucky. No, I've just been busy."

She took a step closer to him. "Even Nate was incapable of getting hold of you. I actually had to skip class to find you here, as my sources tell me that you are only to be found here when I'm otherwise engaged. Which tells me you've definitely been avoiding me."

He had the grace to blush. He opened his mouth to reply but she cut him off. "I know why." The look of dismay on Dan's face spoke volumes.

Blair reached into her satchel and pulled out her well-thumbed copy of _Vanity Fair. _"What is this drivel?" She brandished it under his nose. "D. R. Humphrey. Isn't it a little premature to be using your initial?"

The look that crossed Dan's face spelled alarm. "I can explain."

She poked him in the chest with the magazine, enjoying his discomfiture. "What does the R stand for anyway. Ragged?"

"Randolph. Blair, I wrote it months ago, I didn't know you then."

"So, it is about me." The relief that washed through her made her delivery sharper than she perhaps intended. "And you're telling me that you wouldn't have written it if you knew me better? That's hardly flattering."

"No…Yes…I don't know." He ran his fingers through his curls, sending them into comic disorder and Blair had to thrust her hands into her pockets to prevent herself from smoothing the chaos. "I would have written it differently. And maybe not have attempted to have it published in a magazine you read with such alacrity."

Her tones became coy. "Well, if that's so, I insist you tell me exactly how you would have changed it."

Dan ignored her words, instead meeting her eyes with an intensity that almost made her blush. "You don't hate it?"

Her eyes flickered to the side, breaking his gaze. "Daniel, you wrote it, you know what it says. How could I hate it?"

"I don't know. I guess, I thought you'd think it was presumptuous."

"I do think it was presumptuous." She paused, looking for the best way to phrase her next words without letting him know how affected she was. "But I…liked you pointing out that women of all types and means belong in university, and that ambition isn't exclusively reserved for the masculine majority." She stepped as close as she dared in the obviously public space.

His wondering gaze moved over her face in a manner that made her wish they were alone. "You don't mind…that I have a regard for…you… I mean…what you stand for?"

Blair felt her tension flare, did she have to shout it for the whole library to know that she was pleased, flattered even, by his literary depiction of her? The usual ease she found in dialogue with him seemed to have deserted her. "No…I don't mind, far from it. And I too hold regard…" She lifted her chin, "for what you stand for, Humphrey."

"Really?" His brows flew up in mock surprise. "It must be very carefully hidden regard."

Too many words sprang to her lips and she had to revert to habit. "Your feminist subtext convinced me that you really should have been born a girl, Humphrey. Surely such insight is wasted on a red blooded American male? Unless you're planning on a career in politics."

"Now you sound like my Mother." His brow snapped together and he looked away from her. "You know, I thought you might hate me for it."

His face was closed to her again; she almost reached her hand up to tilt it back toward her. "I couldn't hate it, Humphrey. What I hated is you not being honest with me. I wish you'd told me, you might have known I'd work it out. And hiding this," she poked him with the magazine once more, "under a chair was really the ultimate in cowardice. You owe me."

Blair wasn't sure that he had actually hidden it deliberately but when he ruefully met her eye she knew she had hit the mark. "I was in shock. I wasn't thinking."

"For someone who professes to be clever, you seem fail spectacularly at using your brain for any useful purpose."

He rubbed his hand over his chin, a half smile appearing beneath it. "I have to agree with you."

"Of course you do." She had so many more questions about his work but each of them seemed trite. They were pushed aside as she retreated to safer territory. "What are you looking for?"

"_Les Miserables_." His consideration strayed back toward the bookshelf. "It should be here, but I can't lay my hands on it."

Her eyes followed his to the stacked shelf. "Hugo should be read in his native tongue. There's a French copy."

"Very well, Waldorf, can you point me toward the French language section? I'm not sure my scrubby schoolboy French grammar can cope otherwise."

"It's better in French. I've read it in both." She had never found it more difficult to meet someone's eye in her whole existence. Her words seemed uncharacteristically banal. "I have all of Hugo's work in French and English."

He kept his attention fixed on the books in front of him. "I know, I've seen them with my own eyes on your shelves. It doesn't help me. I know the terms of engagement over your library, I don't think the conditions are at all conducive for study."

"I'll let you borrow what you need. Will you come with me now?" The alarm that Blair felt at the affection that marked her words was matched equally by the look of astonishment on Dan's face. It took a moment for her to regain her usual acerbity. "And then you'll owe me twice, Humphrey."


	8. Chapter 8

**Sorry if you've been waiting for an update! This is so late, I know. I won't bore you with my excuses but let me assure you that I won't abandon this story. Thanks for your patience and please know how much I adore your reviews.**

**This leads directly off from the last chapter so, I know it's been a while (sorry again!), you may need to refresh your memory.**

* * *

><p>It was all a little too confusing for Dan. Blair accosting him a Monday morning, so early and unexpectedly, when his defences were at their lowest. It was a challenge to find a suitable response that didn't include just mooning at her.<p>

"Come on. I haven't got all day. You've wasted enough of my time already." The prickle to her words was tempered by the growing smile on her lips. With Blair Waldorf looking ingenuously up at him, all sincerity and charm, he was putty in her hands. Dan could feel his face twisting up into a foolish grin, helpless against the curious little jig his heart was performing in his chest.

His mind tried to take the sensible path. "You know, I really shouldn't, I have class in an hour."

"Are you telling me that despite the fact I missed my class to find you, you will refuse to repeat the favour for me? I'm actually the one doing you the favour, you do realise?" She turned back to the bookshelf. "Maybe mid-terms are more important. Let's forget about it."

"No, Waldorf, of course I'll come. Let's go." She remained still as he picked up his satchel and overcoat from a nearby chair, warily watching his movements. He knew the narrowing of her eyes meant he was perilously close to having her change her mercurial mind on him. "You are very gracious."

As he rejoined her, he tried to catch her eye, but her guard had fallen once more. She turned on her heels and all Dan could do was follow her purposeful exit from the building. Trying to shrug on his overcoat and juggle his satchel as she moved through the swarm of students away from him. He wouldn't lose her, her cherry red coat bobbed like a beacon through the crowd. He could think she was doing it deliberately, just so he could admire the trim line of her ankles and the lilt to her walk. It was so unexpected, Blair's admissions to him. She hadn't laughed him out of the room. She had liked his story. It had made her think. She didn't despise him. In fact he could almost think she was flattered by his words.

She waited for him at the entrance to the library, tapping her foot impatiently on the steps. Dan fell in beside her and they continued together, mutely. She was more mysterious than ever. He was unsure how to handle this new development in their relationship. He knew about veiled like, fascination and relentless provocation…but after expressing, no, admitting their regard for one another, a level of reserve had settled between them. No matter, walking beside Blair in the clear morning sunlight was too great a pleasure to be disregarded.

She broke the silence. "So. If we are to be friends, we need to agree on the terms of engagement."

"Friends, huh? I thought friendship was an organic thing."

Her laugh was derisive. "If friendship is a plant, Humphrey, this one needs to be kept well pruned."

An image of Blair ruthlessly hacking at his father's rose bushes, his old gardening secateurs in her hand, fixed itself in his mind. Mirth undercut his retort. " Uh, I'm not sure the delicate little seedling that is this friendship, if one can call it that, could survive your type of gardening, Waldorf."

Her eyes flickered across to him. "Speak for yourself, the strongest things grow under the most adverse conditions." She took his arm, stilling his lips from uttering the words that sprang to them. "Stop distracting me! There are expectations and obligations that need to be fulfilled. You can't just go and hide in your dorm whenever the inclination takes you. I expect, for a start, for you to escort Serena and myself, with or without Nate, dancing once a week."

"Once a fortnight." He had to dissemble even if it was kind of half hearted. He hadn't danced with Blair since her party a month before and he had missed the opportunity to hold her close.

"A week. You had made such progress with your social niceties but you need more practice. I worry that you are regressing."

"Well, we can't have you fretting about my societal well being. Uh, I want unconditional access to your bookshelf in return."

"Agreed, but the irreplaceable ones do not leave my study, as you are aware. You are so ramshackle, Humphrey."

"I've never lost a book."

"And you will get little opportunity to lose mine." Blair pulled nearer as they stepped out onto the street, the icy February wind seeming to whip straight though them. But the warmth of her hands tucking into the crook of his elbow made it feel like midsummer.

He shifted his satchel, trying to shift her closer into his side without being overt. Happily his ploy worked. "OK, we'll have a regular study date. I'll bring my best manners if you'll get more of those cakes?"

"You have to earn those." She looked up at him, her nose and cheeks rosy in the cutting air. "A study timetable. We need to address where our study overlaps and work out a plan for the rest of semester. Do you have your diary with you? We need to schedule this properly."

"I don't have a diary."

Blair's expression was incredulous. "That is absurd. What is that thing you're constantly scribbling in?"

"I mean, I have a journal, of course, but I don't need an appointment diary, my memory is perfectly fine."

"Yes, Humphrey, for recollecting the mundanely unimportant things you do day in, day out. But…there's no point even trying to explain this. Just follow me."

Blair disappointingly pulled away from his side. "Keep up." Dan valiantly tried to match her pace. For someone who always looked languidly flawless, she sure could move fast.

"Waldorf, I can't just follow you around all day, I have class, things to do…" He was kidding himself, he could easily follow her around all day, and all night too if she wanted.

"Clearly not important enough to write down, so whatever it was you were going to do doesn't count."

He finally managed to fall back in step with her, wanting to pick her arm up again, take her hand; do anything to recreate the intimate contact. "Where are you taking me now? I know the way to your apartment, this isn't it."

"A short detour."

He tried to tease more information out of her but she remained mute. He could hear his words degenerating into meaningless blethering and she eventually stopped and turned to him, placing her finger over his lips. "Silence, Humphrey, I'm about to do you another favour, God help me, the least you can do is stop tormenting me with your misbegotten babble."

The pressure of her fingers made his mind fall still, all his circling thoughts abandoned for one simple touch. Her gloved hand against his cheek. When had he turned into such a romantic fool?

The stationers shop she led him to was, without doubt, the most amazing Dan had seen. There were few things he liked more than the scent of new leather bound books and crisp blank paper. He looked over the array of stationary, fingers running over the embossed samples of personalised notepaper. His battered moleskin was a sorry sight when compared to the glossy samples around him. But he wouldn't swap it for the world. He placed his hand into his pocket to run his fingers familiarly over the dog-eared binding, giving it an apologetic pat.

Blair had already commandeered an assistant to attend to her. He seemed to be displaying every diary in the shop for her approval.

His feet led him to her side, before she could get carried away. "Waldorf, you really have…uh…this is so unnecessary."

"I'm just ensuring that 'I forgot' won't be on the list of excuses you give me if you ever dare stand me up. This is the one." She passed him a soft brown leather bound pocket diary.

"It's beautiful, Blair. I'll admit, my focus has always been on quantity, not quality when it came to my stationary." His thumb rubbed over the glossy finish on the cover, a movement that he already could tell would become habitual.

"That is entirely evident, in fact, I'd say that you've put little focus on either of those considerations before."

He looked up, trying to catch her eyes. "Believe me, I'm learning the difference."

Blair's didn't meet his, instead she nodded to the clerk that she had made her choice. She picked out a few more purchases, pressed linen writing paper, embossed notepaper; no flimsy, tissue thin paper and pre-franked envelopes for Blair Waldorf. As she signed her account she indicated to the clerk to wrap everything separately. Dan was glad he had no idea what the diary had cost her. He'd have to refuse to accept it and then where would they be?

Blair directed him to hail a cab when their feet found the sidewalk again. Dan felt a little remiss he hadn't though of it himself. But he was so used to walking everywhere, or catching the occasional trolley or bus, he didn't really consider any other type of transport. And he had hoped to walk across the park with her, maybe enticing her arm back into his. Or, better still, her hand. Feet falling into step in the lazy winter sunlight. Perhaps it was time to try something else. "Catch the trolley with me? It's close and we'll be back at our apartment in no time." Her expression turned doubtful. "Come on, trust me?"

"I don't think so."

"Where is your sense of adventure, Waldorf?"

She poked him viciously in the side. "I am very adventurous, I just have a strong instinct for self preservation, and those things are death traps."

"I'll make sure nothing happens to you." The eyes that peered up at him were mutinous, but she said nothing, allowing him to take her arm and guide her along the sidewalk to a tram stop.

When the right car came along it took Dan a little coaxing to get her aboard. All the seats were taken, not that he thought he could possibly entice Blair to sit where hundreds of other pedestrian rumps had placed themselves before. The car was, to Dan's eyes, crowded with a fairly harmless array of middle class passengers but Blair gave off a strong aura of unease. He kind of enjoyed her discomfort. So often he was the one at a loss in any situation he found himself in with this girl, it was satisfying for once to find her uncertain.

"Hold on" He grabbed a rail as the car lurched to a start. The jolt sent Blair careering against him, arms clutching at his chest as she tried to stop herself from falling. She gave a squeak of alarm and his free arm slipped around her waist. "I've got you. Grab the rail here to steady yourself."

Her eyes followed his gesture, lip curling in distaste. "I think not. These are new gloves." The trolley gave another lurch and Blair's fingers gripped his shoulder almost painfully. "Don't let go of me. If I fall here I will die of shame and then I'd have to kill you. Waldorf's do not fall over on trams."

"No, I guess they haven't had much opportunity to."

Her face dipped into his shoulder and he could feel her urgent whisper against his chest. "Are more people are getting on?"

He dropped his head to find her ear. "Yes, just think of yourself as communing with the people. Mingling with the commoners."

"That's how one contracts disease."

Passengers pressed up against them, making Blair shudder. Dan turned her not unwilling body toward the railing and placed one arm each side of her, stopping the growing crush from jostling her. She leaned back against the bar, looking up at him through her lashes.

The wall of his arms seemed to hold them in a cocoon all of their own "You know, I've never met a girl quite as precious as you like to be."

She blinked rapidly. "Maybe these other girls you met didn't know their own value. I don't doubt it, not if they were spending their time with you."

His lip curled up. "But you're spending time with me."

"I know. It's a sad irony." The smile Blair sent him nearly knocked him sideways. Her pliant body pressed closer into his overcoat, cheek dropping onto his lapel. "I'm hiding my head here, it's safer; someone might see me."

Dan tried to keep his eye on the passing scenery, to follow the route they were taking, but it was hard when he found his arm had slipped back around Blair's waist. He'd like to miss their stop just to continue in the warm intimacy for a just little longer, but he wasn't sure if she'd appreciate the poetry of the action as much as he would.

He moved his hand to ring the bell and Blair shifted from him, turning so they no longer faced each other. She let him take her arm to guide her through the crowd to the door. It would have been simpler to carry her. When they finally reached the sidewalk, she wouldn't meet his eyes, her air of hauteur returning, an untouchable young lady of fashion. "Come on, it wasn't that bad."

_xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox_

Blair wasn't sure how to reply to him. The trip had been appalling but the one redeeming feature she had found she was hardly going to admit to. "It was harrowing. I was a cowering mess."

"Cowering, huh? I see." Although clearly he didn't. They fell into silence. Blair mentally berated herself, every step to her door. Flirting…cuddling even…on a public trolley car! The Blair Waldorf she knew she was would never allow that to happen. Shamelessly pawing boys in public places was much more Serena's line. But she could still feel the coarse wool of his overcoat against her cheek and his strong grip around her waist. And it made her feel a little dizzy. She wasn't quite sure how it was, but Dan leaning into her, his hands pressed against the railing at her waist had turned her into a simpering fool. She had lost her head.

What Dan thought of it, if he thought at all, she couldn't tell. His face was pensive, jaw clenched. He offered her his arm but she didn't take it, needing to re-establish some kind of distance from him.

He said nothing until they were removing their coats in the warmth of Blair's apartment and even then his words were frustratingly abstracted. "So, um, no one else is here?"

She wondered at the absence of Dorota and lack the of Vanya's attentions at the door. It didn't displease her. "No, clearly not. Dorota must be running errands."

"I should just get the book and go."

She removed her cloche and turned to the mirror facing the coat closet. Pink nose and flattened hair. The damage the hat had done to her coiffure made her wince a little. She tousled her curls, watching Dan hovering uncomfortably in the glass. "Don't worry about your virtue, Humphrey, I'm sure she'll be back soon."

His eyes flashed and hers flicked back to her own reflection, witnessing the rapid glow that rose in her cheeks in response to her thoughtlessly provocative words. She wished she could read his mind; he was far too much of a gentleman, or perhaps a simpleton, to let on what he was thinking. He kept looking at her, and she couldn't help but slide her gaze back toward him and indulge in the unsolicited warmth flushing through her again. Christ, if he didn't do something, anything, soon she wouldn't be responsible for her actions.

She was all too aware of the space between them, as he followed her up the stairs to her study. Dan picked up a flyer lying on Blair desk. "The Columbia theatrical society? Waldorf, I had no idea you had a fancy to tread the boards."

It was a relief to have something to consider other than Dan's proximity. "I don't really, but Vanessa Abrahms is directing it. My vengeance has cooled enough to be served I think."

He chuckled. "I wondered when that was going to come back up. Let me know if I can help. Although I'm sure my assistance is last thing you need."

'The auditions are next Friday, but I'm still forming my plan. You can give me moral support though. Where is your diary?"

"You haven't given it to me yet."

Blair patted her pockets to locate the small book and sat down at her desk. She tested the nib of her pen on the block of blotting paper next before turning to the first page and writing in her decorative script – _Daniel Humphrey. _

Dan paused in his perusal of her bookshelf. "You know, it might be wise for me to put my actual class timetable in there before you start scheduling my whole week." His fingers ran over the book spines to find the title he was looking for.

"I know your timetable, Daniel." He looked a little startled but said nothing. But, to her gratification, it made him abandon the shelf and pull up a chair next beside her, peering over her shoulder to watch what she wrote. Her cursive became self consciously more ornate. _Please return to 1136 5__th__ Avenue. _

Her lip quirked at the quick intake of breath from Dan next to her. "You could have just directed that to my hall."

"But Daniel, people will be far more likely to return it to 5th Avenue rather than some decrepit student dormitory."

"Maybe, but I'm more likely to lose it at Columbia. There's convenience to consider?" She ignored him, flipping the pages forward until she found the current month and continued to write.

_Friday 22__nd__ – 2pm, "The Importance of Being Earnest", auditions, don't be late._

_Saturday 23__rd__ – 9pm, Pick up Blair and Serena, black tie._

"Where am I taking you?"

"I haven't made up my mind yet, but it's always better to over dress than under dress." The look of misgiving on Dan's face made her chuckle.

_Wednesday 20__th__ – Library 4pm, meet Blair (we are doing French Romantics – You have a reading list to get through)._

Dan laughed aloud. "Beyond _Les Miserables_? I'm not sure I'll even get though that by then."

"Well, you had better start now. Go on. I'll finish here."

"No, I think I should just sit here and keep my eye on you."

Blair opened her own desk diary, noting the common dates she had put in Dan's diary and adding a few more to his. He continued to talk but she lost track of the direction of his conversation. She had sat this closely to Humphrey before. But never had she been so aware of him. She tried to discern the different aromas of him; hair pomade; damp wool; bay rum. Masculine, comforting smells. Her father had never smelt like this, he was always more exotic. Civet and ambergris, not soap and hot water. But the homely inviting unfamiliarity of Dan's scent made her close her eyes and draw in deep breath as she listened to the resonant notes of his voice.

Her lashes flickered open when she realised he had ceased talking. His hooded eyes focussing on her mouth. His face so near; she refused to allow herself to move in closer. She would wait forever, poised before him. He just had to lean forward, could anything be so easy? Not for Humphrey, always over thinking. Never knowing when to take action.

The boyish bewilderment on his face almost made her toss away all her resolutions and press her lips toward him. But she stayed herself, eyes locked with his, the diary held between them. His face was like an open book and she could read every thought. His indecision was a torment. She was so used to taking what she wanted, or needed, with little hesitation. His slow pace, the overt way he held an idea in his mind and turned it over, peering at every side before he would act. His manner of prolonging the moment made her want to weep in aggravation, to accuse him of weakness of character, but she couldn't be so uncharitable. If she was honest it was one of her favourite things about him. His consideration and the solidarity of his choice. His complete lack of whimsy.

He wanted to be sure and she wanted his surety. She didn't want him to kiss her just because she was convenient; she wanted him to want to kiss her. And he did, she knew it, and she found she could wait. His proximity was stimulating enough.

Dan stood up and the disappointment that Blair felt was so solid, she could have almost thrown it at him. But before she could put words to the thought, he took her hands and pulled her to her feet. His dark eyes looked so gravely at her she almost asked him what was wrong.

Finally he lowered his head to hers and her mind could at last fall still. His lips moved so sweetly against hers. It was so simple, so right, to press in against him. Revisiting all the promise of the first time they had kissed.

His face was still cold from the chill air outside and Blair revelled in the tenderness of his mouth and the friction of his skin against her own. Her hands crept under his jacket. She could wish there was less fabric there, that she could follow the soft promise of his skin further. The combination of Humphrey's lips and his long lean body against hers could almost undo her. She wanted to just crawl inside his shirt.

It was a totally novel feeling. Blair knew what it was to be aroused, she'd got her hands on enough erotic literature to know there was far more scope than the blessed little that Dorota and Eleanor had told her. A number of petting sessions had given her a pretty good impression of male anatomy. And Serena's very un-virginal stories had opened her eyes entirely. But for all Blair's sophisticated manner, she was mostly innocent to the physicality of romance. The pang of desire that pulsed through her was something she was entirely unprepared for.

The sound of the door below alerted her hyper sensitive ears. Thinking of the various responses the current scenario would win from them, Serena's titillation, Dorota's consternation or Vanya's mortification; Blair couldn't decide which would be worse. She wavered. Dan just took advantage of her pause, his lips straying, finding the pulse point on her neck. Any thought of moving out of the circle of his arms was forgotten. She let her head drop to the side, a quiver of sensation fluttering over her. Why didn't there seem to be any air left in the room?

It was the giggles that alerted both of them, stopping Blair's abandon dead. She reluctantly unfolded herself from him. "Blair, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…" The look on his face said everything but. He didn't look apologetic, he looked exultant, a smile playing around the corners of his mouth. Her eyes kept flicking to his lips like they were magnetised. This wasn't how it was meant to be, he was meant to be at her mercy, not the other way round. The shuffle of feet on the staircase. "I should go."

It was probably for the best. This had been what she had been aiming for but, now she had met her objective, she needed to regroup. She felt too exposed. "Perhaps that would be best." The words came breathlessly and her hand automatically went to her hair, smoothing the ruffled locks, vexed at how her skin flamed under his appraising gaze.

She turned to the window behind her, trying to will the scarlet from her cheeks. Hoping whoever had returned home would fail to notice her lack of serenity. Dan stood at the opened door, awaiting her. She picked up the diary from the desk. "Already forgetting?"

Dan smiled as he reached to take it from her, his eyes warm. "Sorry. I was kind of distracted." His thumb tracing over the inside of her wrist. "Thank you for your gift. You don't know how I value it."

Blair bit her lip and his eyes immediately tracked to her mouth again. All she could think of was pressing him against wall, his hips against hers, and his lips back in place at her neck. She stepped into the hallway before she could slam the door and give into her folly. He had to go.

Just in time. She could hear quiet voices, her feet following to find Dorota and Vanya on landing of the staircase. Dorota carried flowers and looked flushed, prettier than Blair had seen her before. Her footman's eyes were admiring. They both looked a little disconcerted when they become conscious that Blair and Dan were approaching. Dorota's hands clutched her posy close to her ample bosom. "Miss Blair, why are you here, you have class, no?"

"I had more important things to do today." She could see Dorota's speculative eyes on Dan, so she looked pointedly at Vanya and raised her brow. "I was just seeing Daniel out, he needed to borrow a novel for his literature class." She looked down at his hands loosely holding the diary. "The book, Humphrey, you forgot to take the book. And your bag." Her words came flatly.

He gave a small start. "Uh…I did…they're in your study…I'll just go and get them."

"No, wait. Vanya, collect Mr Humphrey's satchel and the copy of _Les Miserables _from my study."

Vanya shook the stupefied expression off his face. "Yes, Miss." He scrambled up the stairs leaving the three of them in silence.

Dorota's hands fluttered. "Vanya help me carry my things. Shopping…"

"Of course." Blair was dubious, but she knew direct questions would only invite equally invasive ones from Dorota. She would wait. She was probably mistaken anyway. A countess and a footman? _Sacre bleu_, she was definitely mistaken.

At last she felt the blush draining from her face. It was safe enough to look at Dan again. He was staring at the floor, acute discomfort written on his rigid features. "Dorota, I feel that Vanya may be struggling with deciphering which of Hugo's novel's Daniel wishes for. Please escort Mr Humphrey downstairs while I assist him. Daniel, excuse me."

Her footman stood stolidly before the bookshelf in her study, his expression half worry, half confusion. "Vanya, we are waiting. Take Mr Humphrey his bag and I will find the book."

Blair retrieved the novel easily and descended the staircase once more. Dorota and Vanya were either side of Dan, plainly both wishing to be elsewhere. Dan stood in his coat, his hat in his hands, meeting her eyes candidly as she looked down from the landing. All she wanted to do was depart with him.

She could hardly wait until Wednesday.


	9. Chapter 9

"**I have a life. Plans. How could you just screw this up?"**

**Oh, Blair, my life and plans have been definitely screwing up my ability to work on this story (unexpected visitors and late nights at work mess with my muse completely). I almost thought I'd lost my way, but too many sleepless hours of thinking about plots and conversations (Thank god for the notes app on my iphone for those 3 o'clock in the morning thoughts…although they sometimes don't seem quite as inspirational the next day…) are keeping me motivated finish this. There is still quite a way to go and I hope that you'll continue to have patience with me as I struggle on through.**

**I'm crap at responding to reviews, as much as I adore (I need a stronger word!) them (and I adore (!) my faithful reviewers, and alerters and favouriters, who I desperately want to please!) but PM me or ask me questions and I'll do my utmost to answer you. **

**And of course, if the literary police come knocking at my door, well this was all a complete misunderstanding.**

* * *

><p>Dan found himself on a park bench overlooking a pond in Central Park, Blair's book held loosely in his hands, open on the first page. He was unsure how long he had sat for, her name reverberating through his mind like an echo. Distracted by the sheer headiness of her. He had just held all her venom and vitriol contained in one soft armful of doe eyed delight. Recalling the all the ardour in the warm throatiness of her voice made him drop the book into his lap and lean his head back, blinking in disbelief. She was actively seeking his company; he wasn't just a convenient circumstance. He didn't have to fight his urge to be around her anymore.<p>

Reading was clearly a useless pursuit. He put the book back in his bag and retrieved his notebook and the stub of a pencil from his pocket. Wondering what he wrote about before he met her. For the life of him he couldn't seem to recall. But he didn't want to put the mornings adventure into prose just yet. If he thought about it too much he might lose the reality of the moment and send it hurtling back into his fancy.

It was growing dark when Dan eventually stood, the short February day drawing to a close, legs stiff from the creeping chill. He hadn't noticed how cold it was until the dusk settled and the wind whipped over him. Time to move. Time to talk about Blair to someone. Someone who could perhaps quantify the situation he found himself in.

He hadn't seen Nate since he had moved out from the dormitory. Entirely through Dan's own fault, he knew. There had been several invitations his friend had sent him, but each one he had declined, citing study or anything else he could conjure up as a pretext. Dan hadn't really realised, until his mood so suddenly brightened, how exactly close to depression he'd been, following the same lonely routine of his classes and study and work at Columbia. Allowing himself to wallow in the seclusion, shutting out the parts of his life other than his preoccupation his brunette tormentor.

He could recall his friend's address. It was only a short stroll from where he had discovered himself in Central Park. He should pay Nate an impromptu visit, before he disregarded Dan altogether. And perhaps he could seek some advice on how to proceed, if his friend was willing to lend him counsel.

His feet found the address readily and Nate was thankfully home, greeting him with a nod. "Dan. So I finally get a visit. You know, I've been feeling entirely neglected."

Dan unwound his muffler in the warmth of the apartment. Feeling only sincerity would divert his friend's discontent. "I'm sorry, Nate, but…"

"Yes, I know, I could repeat your litany of excuses like a chant, 'paper due, mid terms, article draft'…um, I know there are more, but seriously, Dan, they are so tedious I'm almost asleep already."

Dan knew his friend's not so subtle dig was entirely deserved and merely gave him an apologetic smile.

Nate answered with a genuine grin, unable to maintain his petulance any longer. "I don't believe you though, I'm sure it's a dame. All those soulful sighs and distant stares have been going on for far too long. I want to know who the lucky girl is. Out with it."

Dan shook his head, despite his intention to spill his feelings to Nate, the words seemed to get stuck in his throat. "Ah…I don't know…it's not like that, it's nothing." He scratched his hand through his hair. "Uh…give me the grand tour of this place anyway, so I can see exactly what I'm missing out on?"

Very little in the way of furniture yet graced the living area and he pointed this out to Nate with a chuckle. A single sofa sat in the middle of the floor in front of a table littered with the evidence of Nate's previous activities. An ad hoc bar by the wall and a gramophone beside it made up the only other furnishings in the room. "I know, I know… I too can find excuses, Daniel. Just not the same as yours."

"Well, that's obvious. I hardly seen you around campus at all and you only seem to make one journalism lecture out of every three."

A sheepish expression creased Nate's feature's. "It's just so hard to get to campus on time"

Dan's mouth twisted as he shook his head at his friend's casual attitude toward his study. He wondered whether he himself would have the same approach if maintaining a high grade average wasn't essential to the retention of his scholarship. "I sympathise, Nate. Campus is just so far away. A whole two miles…almost. I myself wonder how I make it across the South Lawn most days."

"See, I told you I needed you here. I have no one to guilt me into attending class. Come on, I'll show you around." Dan followed Nate to the apartment stairs and mounted them two at a time. The bare apartment was magnificent, the decadent fixtures recalling the art nouveau heritage of the building.

The hall Nate led him down seemed to have endless doors making Dan wonder at how one, or even two, bachelors could possibly have need of such space. He had thought his own family dwelling was cosy but perfectly adequate for the small group. Now it seemed positively miniature.

Nate paused before a door and opened it with a flourish. "Now, look and weep, Dan, this could have all been yours." He opened a door to reveal a generous room with wide bay windows over looking the street below. "Just a little different to Hewitt, no?"

Dan took in the space. "Enough, I can see perfectly clearly that my room there could fit in here thrice over."

"You know, the offer still stands, Dan. I'm rattling around in this place all by myself. I need company. If you move in you'll make me stay home more so you'd actually be saving me money."

Dan could picture himself calling this room his own. It would be idyllic. No curfews, no shouting undergrads, no constitutional opposition to visitors of the fairer sex. It would be so easy to toss away all his qualms and agree. The possibility of walking Blair to campus on spring mornings through Central Park, carrying her books, nearly swayed him completely. "Nate, I will, but not yet. Next semester, after I earn some money over the summer and can pay you board."

"But the room's empty now! This damn pride of yours. I wonder how you have any fun at all."

The rest of the multitude of barely furnished rooms held little interest to either of them. They descended the staircase again and Nate made a beeline for the bar, fixing two drinks. He silently passed one to Dan before taking a seat on the lonely sofa. "So, I'm thinking I need a house warming."

Dan stretched out beside him. "Once you've got something to warm."

"Minor details. Help me organise it?"

Dan snorted into his drink. "I think that may just be the most misguided thought you may have ever had."

"You should talk to my father. No, seriously, Dan, you'll be living here eventually, I insist you be my co-host. You can even invite this girl of yours."

"I don't think that will be necessary. And, Nate, I've never organised an event in my life."

The blonde man sighed mournfully, making Dan smile at his melodramatics. "Well, neither have I. It can't be that hard, I've been to enough to know what goes on. Liquor and pretty girls to dance with. There's your party"

"And a band so you have something to dance to, and furniture so you can sit down and talk to the girl as well. Then wait staff, I would imagine, to serve said liquor."

Nate snapped his fingers. "And glassware. I should write this down. Are you sure you haven't done this before?"

Dan laughed. "Positive, and I haven't the first inkling of where to even begin finding any of the things on that list, except maybe a couple of pretty girls.

"I wonder who Serena and Blair's caterers were?"

Dan fell silent at the mention of Blair's name. No matter how much he distracted himself, it took little to rotate his mind back down the same corridors.

"Dan, are you listening? I said let's call on the girls and start planning."

"Huh? No, I don't think I can. I should go. I just wanted to make sure you were still alive."

"Absolutely on no account are you leaving yet. You barely just got here. I'll just telephone Serena and we can go. Although it's Blair we really need to see, I sense that her hand did most of their arrangements."

"Maybe you should go alone." Dan took a breath and decided it was time to lay his cards on the table for his friend before he could place him in a situation he wasn't sure he was prepared for. "The thing is, I…I kissed Blair Waldorf. This morning, in fact."

"What's the big deal? Unless you kissed her last night as well and then you must 'fess up." Nate drained his glass and looked at it speculatively. "And if that's the case then we need another drink."

Dan laughed awkwardly. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Archibald." He passed Nate his empty tumbler, pausing as he searched for his next words. Finding the ones he chose sadly lacking any eloquence. "I'm me and she's her. It could never work."

"What's to work?"

"She's rich, and you know I'm essentially a pauper. She accused me of only being a generation from the workhouse and it's not far from the truth."

"I don't see why you have to make that a problem."

"Of course you wouldn't."

"I'm really not following you, Dan." Nate stood up and walked back over to the whisky decanter, this time bringing it back to the sofa.

Dan sighed as he accepted the refreshed drink. "I know kisses mean very little, she has said that much herself. I'm afraid I'm taking this more seriously than I should. But I've wanted to kiss her again for months."

Nate looked struck. "Dan, I've done you wrong. Blair gave me a note to give you and I completely forgot. It was when I was moving and… Dan, my sincere apologies, you could have been kissing her far sooner if it wasn't for my inadequacies. She was quite desperate to find you."

"Well, she found me. I have a study date with her on Wednesday and she wants me to escort her on Saturday…somewhere, I don't know."

"Then maybe I actually did you a signal service. I retract my apology." He raised his eyebrows as his lips curled up. "Girls clearly can't help themselves around men who play hard to get."

Dan shook his head. "I don't think that's quite what I was doing."

"Well, whatever you're doing seems to be working."

"I just don't understand. Why me?"

Nate groaned. "Jesus Christ, Dan, why not you? She kissed you and now she's organising clandestine dates with you. Stop questioning it."

Dan smiled at his friend's simple assessment of the situation. "What about Serena? You're with her all the time. You could ask her for me. She's Blair's best friend."

"Ask Serena to ask Blair what her intentions are towards you?" Nate blinked in astonishment.

Dan burst out laughing at the ridiculousness of his suggestion. "No! Forget I even asked. Just tell me about you and Serena. You seem to live in her pocket, to quote Blair."

"I know. I can't help myself; I adore the girl. She could be the end of the line for me. Could be, but how do I know? I'm not ready to start playing for keeps." For keeps. Dan didn't allow himself to even wonder about the possibility of using that phrase and Blair Waldorf in the same sentence. Nate twirled his tumbler in his palm, his casual good humour falling from his face. "I only know when she's around I can't seem to see anyone else."

Dan slumped back into the sofa. "I understand you perfectly."

Nate's expression became more intent, his eyebrows creasing together. "And I hate it when she kisses other men. It's the calling card of the modern woman. Be as liberated with your lips as you like. But does it mean as little when she's kissing me?"

Dan didn't know whether this should make him feel better or worse. No, it definitely made him feel worse. The image of Blair in Chuck's arms at New Years Eve sprang into his mind. He had loathed that. And now he wondered how many other times she'd kissed the playboy. Or how many others for that matter? He swallowed his drink pensively and tried to lighten the atmosphere. "There's only one thing for it. Make ourselves as ubiquitous as possible so when they feel the need kiss someone, we're always the most convenient."

"I'm sure Serena would love me at her elbow everywhere she goes. Cramping her style."

"But you're Nate Archibald, the beloved son of the Upper East Side. Heir apparent of the Vanderbilt legacy, the ideal escort. Need I go on?"

"Serena doesn't care for that."

"I'm sure all women care for that. Above anything else."

"Don't sell yourself short. You're clever, probably handsome now that I've introduced you to my tailor, well read…" Nate's discomfort was evident. "…You know, Dan, I'm really hating this conversation. I can't believe I'm saying this but can we talk about class instead?"

Dan laughed. "I'm sorry. I just haven't talked about this to anyone and I need to get it off my chest. I just really like her. I'd been avoiding her like some kind of plague but now, I can't help myself, I don't know what I'm getting into."

"Dan, just remember we're 20 years old. Courting can wait."

Dan rolled his eyes. "Courting?"

"Well, what do you want from her?"

"God! I don't know…I just want her to want me." Nate's eyebrows quirked. "Not like that, Nate! Not entirely like that. I guess I have to just let it play out. Hoping she won't get bored of me."

Nate picked up the whisky decanter once more. "That's the most sensible thing I've heard you say today."

Dan held out his empty glass. "You know, you're not helping."

"You're clearly beyond help, Daniel. Take the sage advice of the whisky bottle instead."

Their conversation drifted to less absorbing topics, for Dan anyway. He left Nate's later that evening, after solemnly promising to visit more often, especially with his class notes in hand. Considerably tipsy and as confused as he was when he'd arrived there, if that were possible.

The walk home sobered him a little. He had hoped to form some sort of resolution on what attitude to take in his friendship with Blair. Admitting his feelings to his friend had been easier than he thought. He'd been distracted by the girl for more than six months, holding it close to his chest, and for Nate to be so nonchalant, (although why that should surprise him he didn't know) Dan felt he had placed too much significance on everything. Finding his friend in a similar predicament to his own had at least made him feel less alone in his bewilderment.

He resolved to take it as it came. Take what she gave him. Give her what he could. Not press her for anything more. How many different hats could he wear? Study friend, escort, charades companion, dancing partner, library patron and general dogsbody.

The streets from Madison Avenue back to Morningside Heights had become so familiar to Dan he could trace their path with little attention. He arrived back at his dorm willing _Les Miserables _to keep his mind occupied for the rest of the evening. Hoping in vain. He lay on his small bed in his shirtsleeves wrestling with Hugo's words, still too drunk to follow the small script, finding himself staring vacantly at the page again as he wondered about Blair.

With a muffled curse he threw the book down and switched off the lamp, trying to settle to sleep. Distracted by his growling stomach and the slightly spinning room.

He lay there for what felt like an age. There was no way in the world he was going to find rest, for this night anyway. His dry mouth and lumpy pillow and buzzing mind combining to create another level of hell. He flicked on the lamp to deal with the problems in order; retrieving his water jug, throwing the offending pillow to the floor and groping around on his desk for a pen to reunite it with his neglected journal.

Words appeared compulsively on the page. Dan hadn't found himself writing poetry since his adolescence. When the words of the masters made him look at his own work with a certain embarrassed futility, he had changed his focus to more ambitious stuff.

But Blair deserved sonnets; simple prose couldn't describe her contradictory glory at all. The simple couplets that he wrote didn't do her justice either. She'd deem them too impractical for her modern sensibilities. She'd prefer it if she scrawled all over the page like her beloved Cummings.

But the words at least bought him a sense of peace that eventually allowed him to drift into a dreamless oblivion.

_xoxoxoxoxoxo _

Blair was going to be late to her study date with Dan. It was her intention to at least make him sweat a little. But her deliberation over the devore velvet suit or the daringly clingy Chanel silk jersey had eaten up more time than she had meant. The jersey won, but not until after she'd changed her apparel twice.

Blair told herself that it wasn't nerves that made her vacillate. It was a tactic. She was vexed with herself for being so blatantly eager for Dan's attentions. It was absolutely necessary to rediscover a sense of control in her dealings with him. She considered how long he would wait for her, before he gave her up? A while at least. He was in a library and, being the man he was, he'd find plenty to distract himself with.

She completed her toilette with a final coat of deep rose over her lower lip. The butterflies returned as she contemplated the hope that Dan might just kiss it off her later. The thought made her jump up from her dressing table and grab the russet coat she had worn earlier in the day. She wouldn't be very late, not if she got the doorman to flag her a cab. Her intention was for Dan to take her to the cinema and then perhaps to a supper club if she could convince him to abandon their study plans. The reflection that peered back at her, as she took a last glance in the bedroom mirror, told her it shouldn't be too difficult to sway him.

Blair was halfway down the stairs when a noise made her pause. The click of a door handle; she had thought the house was empty. She paused on the landing, turning toward the sound. "Dorota? I'm going out. Don't hold supper for me."

Serena's voice echoed back to her "B? Is that you? Come and talk to me."

"S? I thought you had class. I have to go, I'm late" Despite her words she turned and walked back up the stairs toward Serena's bedroom.

Her tall golden friend stood at her door in a dressing gown, the ivory lace falling off her shoulder in a drift. Despite her heavy lids and tousled hair, her alluring sparkle never faded. Cornflower eyes took in Blair's carefully composed outfit. "You look marvellous, what's the occasion?"

"I can't say the same to you. Have you just left your bed?" She hadn't seen Serena at the breakfast table more than twice in the past week and one of those occasions had consisted of a stumbling Serena, coming in with her shoes in hand and an inebriated laugh, well past sunrise.

A similar giggle to the one that accompanied her friend's next words. "I know I'm bad, and right now my head is aching enough to regret everything. But it was such a glorious party. I just had so much fun, B. You should have come." Her voice took on a plaintive note. "You should come out with me more."

Blair felt a twinge of something like remorse. She had neglected plans with Serena on more counts than she cared to remember in the past month. "Well, you should come to the library with me more. And go to class occasionally."

"It's like you're a record stuck in a groove. I can miss a class, Blair." Serena rolled her eyes. "We still managed to have an acceptable time without you, however much you were missed."

"Who were you with? Nate?"

"He was there." She gave Blair a sly wink. "But I've made a new friend. She is a divine brunette, like you, and has a wicked sense of humour. B, I insist you come out with us. We plan to meet up again on Saturday evening."

Blair's guilt turned jealous in a snap. "What's her name?"

"Georgina Sparks. She's at NYU."

"Serena! You can't slum at NYU; the women there don't even get a full faculty, it's more like a charity school. She's probably some hick studying to be a teacher."

"No, she's from Manhattan, like us, and studying law. And her clothes are incredible."

"I don't doubt that, but S, you know your taste in company can be highly questionable."

Her friend rippled with laughter. "You may be right. And so, whose company do I prefer the most?"

Blair smiled slowly back at her. "You can't put me in that category." Serena raised her eyebrows but didn't reply. "You didn't just meet me in a club, the fates put us together."

"I met Nate at a club, you like him, don't you? And his friend Dan, whom I know you like very much, despite your protestations."

"That's not the same! And I merely tolerate Dan. You won't study with me, with who else can I argue Yeats versus Keats?"

"Whatever you say, darling. What would possibly make me think you had any other motive?" Serena grabbed Blair's hands in a merry rush, tugging her into her bedroom. "Can you blow off whatever it was you were going to do and stay home with me? We'll get Vanya to get some ice cream and we'll play Mah Jong. And I'll show you this new dance Georgina taught me."

"I…" Blair pictured Dan sitting alone in the library, and her rosy red lipstick that was waiting to be kissed off. "It's just that…"

Serena's face fell at her hesitation. "It's ok, I was going to go out myself later anyway."

"No, it's fine, it wasn't important." Blair tried to disguise the disappointment in her words with a laugh. "I can't think of anything I'd rather do than stay in with you."

Her friend's expression turned speculative. "Unless… you are looking rather fine for a Wednesday afternoon, even for you…was Keats and Yeats on the agenda? I don't mind being cast off if it's for the sake of romance."

"No, I was just…going to brush up on my Wilde. For Friday's auditions." Friday. She would have to postpone Dan until then. It was right that he should wait for her. To at least punish him for the insolence of writing about her and then, after all, having the gall to avoid her. She had been too overt in her interest in him. Losing her head because he looked at her in a particular way.

And it wasn't romance, whatever Serena reckoned. It was just that he was one of the few people in New York, other than present company, who could understand when Blair was being sincere and when she was sarcastic. She had become so sick of having to explain herself to people that she had given up, merely replying to confusion at her words with a facetious smile. Dan never had to ask what she meant; it was the relief of finding herself in charity with someone that made her want to kiss him. The thought didn't allay her sense of regret she felt as she laid aside her plans.

"You didn't tell me. What auditions?" The confused look on Serena's face made Blair realise how little she had shared with her friend in recent weeks.

"You haven't seen the flyer? Vanessa's directing _The Importance of Being Earnest. _I need to ensure she fails spectacularly."

Serena sat down on her bed pulling Blair down beside her. "Vanessa? I had totally forgotten her. I thought she did us a favour, all in all. We'd still be cloistered in Hartley if it wasn't for her intervention."

"That's beside the point, S. Your gratitude is misplaced; our living together would have happened anyway. She feels herself so morally superior to us, I have to take the opportunity to mess with her, just a little."

Serena lay back upon her rumpled eiderdown, pausing thoughtfully. "B, she's never going to allow you a role. And even if she did, why would you want to put yourself in such a position. She'd be directing you, it sounds like hell."

"I'll find a way. I can really fancy myself as Gwendolen. You should come, you'd be a perfect Cecily." Blair regretted her words as soon as they left her mouth. Serena interrupting another assignation with Dan wasn't exactly the scenario she had been envisaging.

"I don't think so. My talents lie in other areas. If only it was you directing Vanessa. That situation would have far more scope."

Blair stood up as she realised the full impact of her friend's words. "Serena, I don't say this to you often enough. You are genius. It's a far better plan. Come downstairs and we can have tea and discuss the best way to proceed."

Serena opened one lazy eye. "It sounds more like an occasion for champagne."

"Tea, Serena! You drink so much one would hardly know there was prohibition on. You can be sober every once in a while, can't you?"

"Will you make me breakfast?"

"Yes, if you want terrine de canard au poivre vert. Or perhaps you'd prefer foie gras poché avec vin rouge*? Cooking classes at finishing school didn't extend to breakfast."

Serena sat up. "I could probably eat one of those things…"

"I'll get you fruit and maybe some brioche, and make tea. That is as far as my services extend and I already consider it an imposition." The smile that accompanied her words softened the imperious tones. "Please put some clothes on and come downstairs? My sensibilities can't cope with your state of undress at this hour of the day. And I need your ear."

Blair traced her hand over the banister as she slowly walked downstairs, leaving Serena to dress. There was too much that required her attention. The conundrum that was Dan would have to wait. She would like more than anything to find him and sound out his thoughts, but her behaviour towards him had already perilously strayed so close to stalking that she thought it more becoming to take the opportunity to withdraw and wait for his return serve, no matter how trying she found the impasse.

Serena's patient ear helped Blair consolidate her course of action and, with so little time left before the Friday auditions, she had to make haste to set her plans in motion. By extending every effort of her considerable wiles, Blair managed to convene an emergency meeting of the executive board of the Columbia Players on the following day. But in spite her well considered arguments, the board failed to understand the wisdom of her plan at all. For all her cajoling, and even her subsequent unashamed attempts at bribery, the president was unmoved, refusing to dismiss Vanessa as director and set Blair in her stead. As a freshman and someone who had previously shown no interest in the dramatic society, her idea was, in his exact words, 'absurd'. He had enough reservations about Abrahm's ability to manage the production, which he voiced to Blair in disparaging terms. She didn't mind his abuse of Vanessa, even appreciated it. His sneering misogyny however, made her blood simmer and it wasn't long until she was trying to think of a way she could take him down along with aggravating sophomore.

The company president's interest was piqued though, by her careless expressions of 'considerable donations to the society' and 'theatrical patrons', and Blair was sure she could find a way to manipulate the situation to her advantage. She declined his offer of dramaturg and he refused her the role of production manager. They finally came to terms; Blair wasn't entirely satisfied with the outcome but it was a start. At least she could involve herself in the production without having to be directly answerable to Vanessa. There was ample opportunity for sabotage.

And so, she found herself impatiently waiting on the steps of the campus theatre, looking the arrival of one Dan Humphrey. Swinging between desire to tell him of her first victory in the downfall of Vanessa, disquiet over her lack of modest thought and the fretful knowledge that it was possible for him to not to show to their date at all, in retaliation for her standing him up.

The weather was surprisingly warm and she had worn her new leaf green suede and snakeskin bucked pumps in celebration of the dry ground and sunny sky, and the sweet gratification of plans falling into place. For all her air of studied indifference, anticipation besieged her when she saw his familiarly unruly head and dark overcoat coming across the lawn toward her. She descended the marble stairs to meet him. "Humphrey, finally. I hate waiting."

"You said 2pm, Waldorf. I have written proof, in your own handwriting. Just like the written proof I have that you were going to meet me at 4 o'clock on Wednesday. I waited for you." The look he gave her was probing but he didn't question her further.

"I'm sorry." Blair bit her lip; she hadn't meant to apologise. "Circumstances beyond my control." She smiled up at him, squinting into the low afternoon sun. "Don't think you can get away with the same."

His eyes dropped to hers in amusement. "Forgiven, Waldorf. I got some quality study done in your absence."

Blair felt a little unsettled that he wasn't more disturbed by her nonappearance. He stood beside her, a picture of nonchalance. She tried for the same. "Just as well. You're going to have less time for that from now on. There are important things afoot. Earnest things."

"So I gather. Although I don't see how you performing in a play is going to affect my study. Do you want to go and run some lines before we go in?"

"No need. I find my place is not on the stage after all. I don't see how Vanessa could direct anyone out of a paper bag anyway. I'll be arriving at my triumph in an entirely different manner." Blair took a breath and help out her arms. "You're looking at the newly appointed costume designer."

Dan's dark brows creased. "You're designing the costumes for the play?"

"That's what they are known to do, Humphrey." She widened her eyes at him.

"Have you done this type of thing before?"

"How hard can it be?"

"Uh…do you even know how to sew?"

Blair made a dismissive sound. "Don't be ridiculous, of course I won't be sewing the costumes. What, did you imagine me sitting in a garret slaving over my stitches?"

He laughed, words faltering on his lips. "No, but…"

Her arm had slipped into the crook of his elbow sooner than she had intended and he bent it to accommodate her, their feet falling into step as they ambled down the cobbled walk. The bemused expression on his face surprised her. She had thought he would be a little more impressed by her coup. "You don't seem to be very excited. You're the one who accused me of lack of adventure." She had to confess, if only to herself, those words had stung a little.

Dan looked down at her quizzically, dark eyes meeting hers. "I just thought you were doing this to get your revenge upon Vanessa. I don't want you to take yourself down with her. "

"Hardly, Humphrey. I really am not such a poor thing." Blair couldn't stop the smirk that she felt flicker across her face. "You should have heard the noise she made when she heard the news."

"Ah…" He nodded knowingly. "That was the eerie screech that echoed across campus earlier. What are you planning to do?"

She hadn't expected them to fall back into such easy discourse after their last encounter. The tension she had been feeling had completely dissipated. "It's simple, I've given a big enough donation to the theatre trust to ensure the company president will give me carte blanche to do what I like. Maybe through some terrible misfortune the costumes won't be complete for opening night and Vanessa will be left looking incompetent." She squeezed his arm. "You have to help me. It'll be fun."

Dan still looked unconvinced. "You have a strange idea of fun. It seems like a huge amount of work to do for no final purpose."

"You have no imagination. It's perfect. Vanessa is desperate to ingratiate herself with the players and make her great directorial debut. It would be irresponsible of me not to get involved." She blinked innocently up at him.

"I'm not sure that irresponsible is the word. But I don't doubt that you're capable of it. For revenge or for earnest." His mouth curled up.

Blair slapped his arm in pay back for his appalling pun. "All I need to do is throw together a few pictures and my side is done. Bribing the costume shop not to complete the work in time should be simple. And if that doesn't work we could conveniently lose them before opening night."

The curve of Dan's lips opened to a grin. "You could get Dorota to sew the arms and legs together so the actors can't put them on."

Blair giggled at the image of the struggling performers arriving on stage in their underwear. "Maybe we could swap the costumes so people end up with the wrong ones."

"Or they could fall apart in the middle of the performance."

"That idea is even better than mine. You clearly have talent for the devious that I can tap." She couldn't help the grin that spread across her face. It had to be the best feeling in the world, swinging on the arm of a dark haired man who smiled down at her with such merriment that it was hard not to reach up and kiss him. She contented herself by tucking her other hand into his arm. "You haven't answered my question. Are you going to help me?"

"I thought that was rhetorical. Do I have a choice?"

"You don't, but it will be much easier having your willing participation rather than having to coerce you the entire way."

"You don't have to coerce me. I'm entirely willing. I just can't see I'd be any use to you, I know nothing about costumes."

"That part is my domain. I won't even ask you for an opinion, I promise you. I want you purely for moral support."

"I think you have moral and amoral mixed up somehow. But I'm at your service."

Blair nodded. "Good. We start now. I have a concept meeting tomorrow and we have to research."

"Hold on, Waldorf, I thought the plan was to throw together a few pictures. Does it require so much energy?"

"Yes, in order to see it through, I have to be able to talk the talk. When it all goes to hell in the end, I must be above reproach. We're going to the art gallery. Can you sketch?"

His mouth twisted. "Fortunately for me, my skill with a pencil is limited to shaping letters."

"That's too bad, Humphrey. I'm sure you were the bane of your drawing master's life. You must have a penknife? I hope you can at least sharpen my lead for me."

"That I can do."

"Then we have to go to the New York library to look at the photographic archives and the art history collection. I wish we could go to London or Paris to look at the galleries there, but lithographs are just going to have to do. Your task will be to find the resources while I sketch. Start with Sargent, and then Monet and Renoir, although the impressionists don't show enough detail, and then Whistler…no not Whistler, Wilde hated him."

Dan's lips quivered as though he was trying to suppress his amusement. "Breathe, Waldorf."

Blair filled her lungs. She was becoming as bad as him, like some kind of verbal purge where she couldn't stop the words from tumbling out of her mouth. "But there is so much to do, and we have no time. Come on stop dawdling! We have to stop by the stationers on the way."

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><p>* Duck terrine with green pepper and foie gras poached with red wine<p> 


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N's This has come out very long and mostly from Dan's POV, I guess it's the way this story wanted to be told but I'm not sure if I should have been a little more ruthless with my editing. **

**I can't believe this is over 50'000 words now. It's certainly the most ambitious thing I've ever written, so excuse me if it's sometimes a little confusing (is it?), knitting all the character threads together can be a challenge.**

*****Warning: this chapter contains drug use*** I wonder if this is straying close to an M rating and may have to change the rating (?).**

* * *

><p>The Met was quiet; one generally expected this of art galleries, but in the late Friday afternoon hour, Dan and Blair found they had the walls of paintings mostly to themselves. In the late 19th century exhibition space at least, the recently opened exhibition of industrial design was drawing most of the crowds.<p>

Blair had plotted a path through the rooms, marking the portraits and artists in the guide that she wished to scrutinise. The staccato urgency of her voice made Dan smile as he walked a pace or two behind her, pausing to look at the walls around him, knowing Blair would accuse him of dawdling. He was sure there was no other person walking the earth that could control that amount of pent up energy and focus it on the task at hand, at the exclusion of everything else.

He could wish he had even just a little of her determination, his relationship with his own art had grown wary. He felt guilty when he wasn't writing and frustrated when he was. The pages in his journal were filled but channelling his creativity into anything meaningful seemed impossible. It was becoming kind of dire, especially with the looming expectation of escorting Blair the following evening. It would empty his pockets, and although he didn't begrudge the coin, he had to publish again, and soon, in order to replenish his miserably depleted funds.

The thought made him broach the topic, at least the escorting aspect of it. He lengthened his gait to catch up with the brunette walking purposely ahead of him. "So, tomorrow?"

She returned his gaze enquiringly. "Tomorrow?"

"'9pm pick up Blair and Serena.' I forgive you for jilting me at the library, but if you abandon me in black tie on your doorstep, I may just have to retire into seclusion altogether."

A smile crossed her porcelain features, he wasn't sure he could ever possibly grow tired of the way her dark eyes reflected her thoughts. "I knew that diary would be useful. You've found it useful?"

Dan hadn't found the diary particularly useful at all, however much he treasured it. Being the creature of habit he was, the only extraordinary things he had planned were engagements with Blair and were not occasions he was liable to forget. He hadn't wanted to fill the pages with looming exam dates or papers due, feeling it went against the spirit of Blair's gift to be so mundane. He had instead been using it to record his thoughts. An addiction he was wont to give into whenever he was presented with blank lines on a page. Thoughts that were mostly preoccupied with his present company. "Incredibly useful, Waldorf. I would have been sure to have forgotten you entirely had it not been for the reminders."

"Well, you can't forget, even if you want to. Writing in your diary with ink is tantamount to a contract. Have you got it here? I have more engagements to confirm with you, and you need to record the opening night of the play."

Dan did in fact have the diary on his person but felt reticent about retrieving it from his pocket. He couldn't recall the exact words he had written in it about her but he was certain, whatever they were, that it would be for the best if she didn't read them. "I forgot it, you'll just have to tell me and I promise to commit it to written word when I get home."

Her eyes rolled toward the ceiling in a long-suffering manner. "Humphrey! It's April 15th, and I have to present my renderings in a week, which gives me no time. But deadlines are deadlines. Can you come fabric shopping with me?"

Dan made a face. "Isn't that more Serena's line?"

"But your arms are so much better suited to carrying packages. Please, Dan?" She blinked up at him. There was little he could refuse under such a look so he forbore to remind Blair of the existence of her footman. "I guess I can, when you put it like that. Wednesday afternoon?"

Blair nodded. "Same time, but meet me at the café on the corner of Broadway and 114th. We are going to 34th St."

"Perfect, there's trolley that will take us straight there." The look Blair flashed him was laden with scorn but he moved on before she had opportunity to disagree with him. "And what of tomorrow? You didn't answer me."

"Oh, Serena wants me to meet a friend of hers." Dan felt a rush of disappointment that she was going to renege on their plans. "So bring Nate and we can make a party of it. We're going somewhere different. It's still black tie so you can take that hopeful look off your face."

They had reached a sprawling room that Blair had identified as being of interest to her so she seated herself on a low chesterfield, unwrapping her newly acquired sketchbook. Dan draped himself on the soft leather beside her, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere. He contemplated finding his notebook and taking the opportunity to put some words to page but the luxury of just sitting in silence with an occupied Blair wasn't one he often had the pleasure of indulging in, so he merely sat and observed her rapid work. "You can draw."

"Reproduce. My drawing master said I had the required arrogance but lacked the necessary creative spark to be a true artist." She peeped up at him, her eyes puckish. "He said I criticised every element of my work until nothing existed but technique."

He raised his brow. "That's surely a little harsh on a school girl."

"Oh, Herr Osterbaum had very delicate notions of art, but not such ideas of propriety. Naturally I directed the head mistress to where he kept the nudes I knew he'd been painting."

"Not worthy of your regard?"

"Fleshy and overly anatomically detailed. No one needed to know that much about the village innkeeper's daughters. I'm convinced he thought he was the next Klimt."

Dan stifled a choke of laughter. "I wonder how anyone dare create anything under your ruthless appraisal."

"I resent that. I am a passionate supporter of the arts." His lips curled up at her frank announcement of this fact.

As much as he thought of stretching his arm out along the back of the sofa to rest behind Blair's head he kept his hands firmly folded in his lap. "I don't mean that. You just have an unerring eye for the flaws in things. You seize upon them and expose every weakness."

Blair blinked, as if unsure of the direction of his words. "You best hope I don't turn that eye on you."

His words slowed as he pursued his thought. "I think sometimes it's the imperfections that lend things the most beauty. Tempering them from being overpowering. Who wants perfection?"

Her hand stilled as she shot him a quick look from under her lashes. "I want perfection. Your romanticism is showing, Humphrey, it doesn't flatter you." Blair passed him her blunted pencil. "Earn your keep."

He retrieved his penknife from his pocket and obliged her, catching the shavings in his hand, hoping he wouldn't cut himself under the intensity of her gaze. Her finger tested the acuteness of the lead before she sniffed and lowered her head, giving her smile to the page. "I wish you'd let me read some more of your writing."

The rapid change of topic to something so much more personal made Dan twitch. "Uh…there's not much to speak of at the moment. To be even less, now that you've dragged me into your nefarious schemes."

"Well there is plenty of scope for inspiration there. Just follow my lead."

_xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo_

Blair returned from her meeting on the Saturday feeling smugly pleased. Her initial ideas had been well received by the creative team. The civil overtures she made toward Vanessa had partially disarmed the sullen girl and although she took Blair's ideas with circumspection, she didn't oppose them. Blair knew it was for the best, that it would be easier to implement her plans if she had Vanessa at least temporarily on side, but having to treat the girl with cloying sweetness would grow intolerable if she had to maintain it for long. At least once she had presented the designs she could avoid having to see her too often.

Her study was warm and welcoming, prepared for the afternoon of work Blair had planned, scouring the library books she had made Dan carry home for her the day before. His presence in the room ought to have been all she needed to win another kiss from him, but he had been elusive, retreating from her apartment at speed, leaving her pouting with dissatisfaction. Of course he was attentive, in the friendliest possible manner; that was his nature. But he had been physically aloof the entire afternoon, not taking her arm unless she instigated it, walking distractedly behind her, hardly meeting her eye.

Blair found herself at her bookshelf again. The thought of forcing herself to her desk made her head ache so she abandoned the study, and it's thoughts of Dan, to retreat to her bedroom. It was hours before she could expect his arrival but she stood before her wardrobe door perusing the contents with a tilted head. None of it seemed satisfactory. It was time to up the ante and force some kind of confession from him, which meant, for a start, abandoning her usual, more modest approach to her dress. Something perhaps Serena would advise her on, although it mattered little what her friend wore, her long golden legs and ample bosom made even the most conservative of gowns alluring.

The doors that lead through the adjoining bathroom to Serena's room stood open and she walked through, calling to her housemate. "S? I need you." The blonde girl lay sprawled on her bed but rolled over at the sound of her voice, tossing aside the circular she had been half-heartedly perusing. Blair thrust forth the dresses in her hands. "Which of these is most guaranteed to entice?"

Serena sat up and examined the proffered garments. "Neither. Wear your red velvet."

Blair sighed and dropped her hands. "He's already seen that."

"Feeling the need to torment Dan some more? Surely you have him well in hand."

More than anything else, Blair hated having to confess to a weakness that gave evidence of a chink in her armour. Even to her best friend. But she had reached point nonplus. "He is so contrary, S. One day he's kissing me, and then the next he's walking three feet away. As friendly and as distant as can be."

Serena stood up and linked her arm with Blair's as they walked back through the bathroom to her room. "You've probably frightened the poor darling."

"Serena, he wasn't frightened." She was positive of it. He seemed more wary than anything else.

"You could be less defensive, B. You can be so prickly. Give the man a chance, it's hard to kiss a thornbush."

"I've given him more chances than he deserves. And I'm not prickly I just have high standards. I don't even sure that he meets them."

"Then why do you care so much?"

Blair chose to gloss over her friends direct question and press forward. "He should be more appreciative of me."

"And, of course, dressing provocatively is a good start."

"If anyone knows how to play the vamp, it's you. I need you to show me how to suppress my inherent class."

Serena looked to the ceiling. "Do you want my advice or not? You're not making it very inviting."

Blair sunk down onto the bed. "I'm sorry, S. But I find myself in unfamiliar territory. He's meant to be eating out of my hand and instead I find myself chasing him. It's unnerving."

"Darling, he's goofy about you."

"Then why doesn't he act upon it?"

Serena's voice was muffled as she rummaged through Blair's closet. "Men are totally blind, and deaf and dumb. Sometimes it's necessary for us to spell it out for them. Here, this is the one." She held up a sheer black lace Lanvin robe de style with a low cowl neckline. The taffeta under dress that went with it was stiff and puffed out over the hips.

"That's so old, Serena, and the taffeta rustles like I'm a dowager. I hardly think…"

"Change the slip. I have the perfect thing." Serena turned on her heels and walked back to her room, returning with a scrap of silk that she tossed to Blair. When shaken out, it looked more like a scarf than a garment. It was almost the colour of her skin and ever so slightly sheer. She shivered at the cool caress of the fabric over her palm. Blair bit the tip of her fingernail. "I don't know, S, I mean to be alluring but this looks almost wanton."

"Try it on, B. I promise to give you my most honest appraisal. But I know you'll look glorious. How could you not?"

Blair stepped out of her dress and slipped the ivory silk over her head. It slid over her skin like moonlight. The low neckline would definitely preclude the use of anything but the most minimal underwear. The lace of her camiknickers was already showing well above the curve of her breasts.

Serena passed her the lace gown she had removed from the hanger. It glided over the slip, the beaded detailing at the hem weighting the garment so the skirt swung closely against her body, clinging to her gentle curves. She tousled her curls and spun around to look at the blonde girl now lounging on her bed. Her smile said it all. "B, you look positively indecent. It's perfect. Dan won't know where to look."

Blair surveyed herself in the mirror. "I think I want him to look."

"Then I'm sure he will." She rolled off the bed, her animated face glowing. "Now, you should go and bathe, and then I'm doing your hair. There's a new style of finger waves I want to try and my hair doesn't have enough curl to pull it off. On you it will be sublime."

_xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo_

Dan retrieved his tailcoat from the closet and blessed the unusual foresight that meant he had remembered to have his smalls laundered that week. He brushed the suit leisurely; he had left himself plenty of time to dress, hoping that for once he could avoid receiving another of Blair's sartorial snipes.

He tied his tie with precision, fighting the hollowness that was settling within him. The variance between what he had and what he hoped for gaped like a chasm. He had to find a job. His income from publishing was erratic at best and he had had no interest in writing potboilers or tabloid fodder. But never before had had he fed his ambition so fiercely, from winning the scholarship that kept him at Columbia to his various literary successes that fuelled the voice in his head that told him that maybe he could create, that people could want to read what he had to write. That motivation had changed. He found he just didn't care any more for the faceless people who he had written for. Their anonymity had been replaced by one beloved countenance that channelled all his inspiration.

How his mother would scoff. That he could wish for success for the primary purpose of being acceptable in a world that she found abhorrent or, more specifically, to be acceptable to one inhabitant in particular. His father would be less derisive of his hopes, but he would sigh and tell him that it was useless to aspire to somebody outside your station. He knew his father had a tragic love story in his past, from the collection of letters he'd found in Rufus' desk that weren't in his mother's familiar handwriting, but he'd never managed to tease the details out of him.

Dan had contacted Nate and he was to meet him at his apartment for drinks before they would collect the two girls. The inclusion of Nate in the plans meant they could use his private car. Dan felt it was more appropriate than a cab but he worried that it gave a false impression of the privileges he could lay claim to. On his own, he would have barely been able to afford the cab fare, let alone an evening of drinking and dancing.

On his arrival at Nate's he found his friend awaiting him, opera scarf negligently draped around his neck and a tumbler in hand. "Daniel, just in time for a drink before the car gets here. Loosen you up a bit so we can enact our pact to be the most attractive, conveniently placed, eligible bachelors this evening."

Dan laughed and took the whisky Nate offered him. He noted that his friend had made some advance in the furnishings of his apartment. A large carpet now warmed the bare floorboards of the living room and some occasional furniture was arranged haphazardly across it.

"Progress I see."

"Yes, but it's a tedious procedure. I never knew or cared before about the differences between a Persian and an Oriental carpet. Actually, I still don't care but it does feel nice on the feet."

Dan resisted Nate's urging to remove his shoes to try it out for himself, promising that he wouldn't miss the opportunity in the future. Fortunately, the bell rang to signal the arrival of the car, allowing Dan to avoid further harassment.

The distance was so near it almost took longer to drive to Blair and Serena's penthouse than to walk. Vanya answered their door, a picture of efficient solemnity. He escorted the gentlemen to the lounge where Dorota sat squinting at her embroidery. She looked up at them, appraising them in her direct European manner.

"Mr Archibald, Mr Humphrey, Misses Blair and Serena down shortly. You will sit?" She patted the overstuffed cushion next to her. Nate smiled gracefully and sank into chair but Dan wasn't sure if he could curb his agitation enough to peacefully be seated. "Uh…no…thank you. I'll stand." Or walk back and forth from the foyer to the sitting room, making Dorota looking more and more agitated, and Nate increasingly amused, with his every turn.

"Mr Humphrey, you make me nervous with your pacing. I will get you refreshment, no?" She put her embroidery to one side and hoisted herself out of the sofa before Dan could voice his protest. "And I also will have one." She looked across at Vanya hovering by the door. "I cannot dance like crazy thing with arms and legs flapping like monkeys. I prefer waltz. But I like the martini. Vanya, ice please?"

The stolid footman jumped to attend to her bidding, returning to meet her at the bar with a full ice bucket. The martini she mixed him was strong, the gin biting into the back of Dan's throat as sipped, lounging against the wall near the entrance of the room.

The murmur from the stairs made him look up from his glass. Two heads, one golden and one dark, peered over the balustrade at him, the blonde smiling a generous welcome, the other taking in every aspect of his appearance with a raised brow. It twisted his mouth into a grin. Which faded slowly as she walked toward him and he could view the rest her lithe figure.

Her sheer dress dropped to her knees, swaying as she descended the staircase. At first glance one could almost assume she was naked under the diaphanous lace, the shadows of the pattern showing dark against her endless ivory skin, but closer examination revealed the silk slip that skimmed her body beneath. Dan struggled not to look too closely, forcing his eyes train themselves on Blair's face and hold, despite the traitorous flush that crept up his neck. Her red bow lips were nearly as distracting and the burnished waves of her hair coiling back from her brow, made his fingers twitch with the temptation to deliberate muss their perfection. He forced himself to turn his attention to Serena who followed behind her in ivory and gold, her kid slippers dancing down the steps.

Blair paused, her hand trailing up the mahogany railing. "It's customary to compliment ladies you happen to escort."

Dan grasped for words. "Uh…you look…you both look…uh…really great."

"You have such a way with words, Humphrey. I'm quite overcome." Her dark eyes swivelled toward the ceiling.

Serena stepped in with a smile and a glance across at Blair. "Dan, it's so nice to see you. Such a gentleman to come and collect us."

Blair tossed her head, making her long enamel earrings swing against her neck. "Teaching me my manners, Serena? Dan doesn't care you know."

Dan managed to untie his tongue. "Uh…no, Dan doesn't care about your lack of social mores. You are a vision of loveliness, Waldorf. It astonishes me how you always manage to disguise the harpy that resides within you. Serena, a pleasure as always."

Blair responded to Serena's giggle with a glare that encompassed both her and Dan as she stalked over to where Dorota had left the fixings for the martinis on the bar. Nate rose as they entered the room, murmuring his greetings and kissing both of the girl's hands. Dan could only admire his address, his compliments breezy yet sincere, earning him a pleased smile from Blair and a kiss on the cheek from Serena.

Dan hadn't been to the club where they were to meet Serena's friend before but its notoriety was well established. He noted on their arrival that it certainly appeared sleazier than those he had visited before in the company of Blair. The street frontage was dark and unwelcoming and he watched her dark head look toward Serena with apprehension. "What is this place? I never venture this far south of Manhattan."

"The Press Room. Georgina swears it has the best liquor and dancing in the city. I heard that there is a tunnel built under the road from the police station, so apparently it's the least likely place in the city to get raided."

Nate nodded his head. "I've been here with Chuck a few times. The rumours are true. As well as some fairly serious gambling in the back rooms."

The hand Blair slid through the crook of his elbow told Dan that he'd been forgiven for his earlier barb. That, or the seediness of the street made her want to pull closer to him for safekeeping. Either way, he wasn't averse to the scented pressure on his sleeve. Her voice echoed in the quiet. "I hope it looks better from the inside. I have little faith in your friend's taste in either dancing or liquor, Serena. We should have gone to the Cotton Club. No one can compare with Duke."

"Come on, B, if you don't like it we can go there later." Serena stepped up to the door and recited the password that Georgina had given her. The burly doorman eyed each of them closely and, clearly finding them harmless enough, waved them through.

The interior was dark and smoky, and surprisingly loud, given the silence from the street. Their arrival attracted immediate attention. Blair had dropped Dan's arm to remove her coat. She stood beside him as they waited to be led to a table. He felt partly a sense of pride, having the most dazzling woman in the room, probably in the city, next to him, and part antagonism. He knew the looks they garnered had little to do with him. He reclaimed her elbow, hoping to give the clear signal that _he_ was this coquette's escort for the evening and those hopeful stares, or leers as they were, could be directed elsewhere.

The waiter took them to a low, round table before collecting their drink orders; champagne for Serena, a martini for Blair and whisky and soda for the two gentlemen.

Nate leaned across the table to attract Blair's interest. "So, Dan and I are throwing a party and I have to ask you..."

Blair turned to Dan, her eyebrow raised incredulously high. "Why have I not heard of this?"

Dan returned her gaze with equanimity. "Probably because every time I've seen you since Nate raised it with me, our conversation has been on an irredeemable Wildean bent." He chuckled. "And Nate is being presumptuous."

"I'm so sorry, Nate, but you see Daniel is already promised to assist me. He doesn't possibly have time for you. I doubt he'd do you any good anyway. His ramblings are more distracting than motivating."

"Now who else is being presumptuous?" The smile on his face widened as he caught her quick glance to tell him that, although she had heard his comment, she didn't deign it worthy of a reply.

Blair returned her focus across the table. "I'll tell you what, I'll lend you Dorota. But don't confirm anything until I've approved it first. Especially the guest list."

The arrival of Chuck Bass and Serena's friend turned the conversation to more general stuff. Georgina greeted Nate and Serena familiarly and held out a congenial, well-manicured hand to Dan and Blair in turn. She was dark and lovely, but without the luminosity that characterised the face of the girl that kept him awake at night.

Chuck had seated himself directly opposite Blair and was regarding her low décolletage with interest. Misliking the intensity of his gaze, Dan drew her attention toward himself by resting his hand on the back of her chair. "You haven't told me how the concept meeting went today."

Blair's attitude of languid detachment relaxed and she leaned closer into his shoulder. "Oh, fabulously of course, they adored my ideas and the set designer plans to adopt my colour palette and, Dan, I even managed to be polite to Vanessa."

Dan laughed. "That must have been a struggle indeed."

Her lashes fluttered rapidly. "I can be gracious when required."

"You are nothing but grace." The Dutch courage he had garnered from the drinks he had imbibed made his thoughts translate to words with ease. She laid her fingers on his arm in reply. Had it not been for Serena drawing her away from him, he would have been unable to prevent himself from taking her hand up and pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist. Instead, Serena swept her from the table and onto the dance floor to engage in the Charleston that had sprung up, before he even had a chance to meet her eye.

Nate looked bemused. "Here we are, an even party of couples for once, and they have to ruin it." He held his hand out to Georgina. "It would be remiss of me not to engage your hand before these scoundrels beat me to the pass. Shall we?"

Georgina smiled her assent and they rose from the table, leaving the remaining gentlemen to their own limited devices. Dan looked across at the dancing couples, or more specifically, at Blair and Serena moving together in fluid unison. He had to say he preferred it to her dancing with anyone else, other than himself. Chuck turned around in his chair to follow his eyes to the figures on the dance floor. "You'll never keep her."

The whisky and soda slipped a little in Dan's fingers and he placed the tumbler on the table to prevent spilling it on trousers. "I don't have her."

"You could." Chuck swivelled back toward him and showed his lazy smile. "Although why she would pick you, even momentarily, I could never understand."

"You don't know me."

"I know all I need. A sewer rat hanging on the coat tails of his betters."

Dan felt a cinder of anger flame to life within him. "I suppose that depends on how you define 'betters', Bass. Moral or social? Because if we're talking sewer rats…"

Chuck laughed. "Moral superiority can only get you so far, Humphrey. As I said, you won't keep her attention for long. And you don't have the strength of purpose to actually take advantage of it before she tires of you."

"Keep classifying me in your terms, Bass. You can't understand anything outside your own limited window of vision."

"You may be right. But it's because I don't particularly care."

Dan's temper was fully roused but the reply he readied for the playboy was cut short by the return of Blair breathlessly sinking into the chair beside him. "Humphrey, get a girl a drink. It's a desert in here."

A waiter already hovered near them and Dan caught his eye. Before he could even open his mouth to speak, Chuck leant over to tuck a fold of bills into the man's hand. "Arnold, champagne, the Krug I think, I know there's still a bottle or two left from that very special delivery the establishment took not so long ago. Only the best for my fine lady here. And for her friend Mr Humphrey, who has a very discerning taste. He should enjoy the things that come his way before someone takes them from him."

Dan wished with every particle of his being that he could slap away Chucks' hand and push notes into the waiters fingers himself, but to try and compete with Chuck Bass and his millions would be the ultimate in foolhardiness. It's not a competition if the playing field was never even to begin with. He stood up. "Blair, dance with me?"

She smiled up at him, oblivious to the tension at the table. "But the champagne…"

He stretched out his hand, the returning curve of his lips only for her. "Will be here when we return."

The erratic movement on the floor had calmed a little and a medium paced foxtrot progressed around the room. He hadn't danced for at least a month and the competency he thought he had developed could quite easily elude him. "Be gentle with me. I'm rusty."

"And whose fault is that? Besides, it's like riding a bicycle, Humphrey. One doesn't forget."

"One can still get the wobbles." He tucked her fingers into his as their feet fell in step. The silken slide of his hand over her waist, pressing into the small of her back, he could feel the give of her skin beneath the delicate fabric. Her elbow was raised to the requisite height for a foxtrot but her other hand dropped lower on his shoulder, the palm nearly resting on his chest. If it slid any lower she would have to feel the bounding of his heart.

Her proximity subdued the simmering anger Chuck had stirred. It was impossible to feel anything other than her warm glances and even warmer skin. The challenge was to keep his eyes fixed decorously on her face. His greater height and her close stance meant the creamy expanse of her cleavage was more exposed to him than was strictly comfortable. His eyes keep flitting to the dark freckle on the curve of her chest and by the knowing blush that spread rosily up her neck, he knew was doing a disastrous show of hiding his diversion. Soon her pink cheeks and the small white teeth worrying the edge of her lower lip made him forget anyone else even shared the dance floor with them.

And of course, as soon as the band bought the tune to a too rapid close, Chuck had to cut in. "You have to share, Humphrey. Don't worry, I'll return her to you mostly in one piece." Dan rolled his eyes but relinquished Blair into his arms, returning to the table. His arrival coincided with Serena, reaching for the Krug conveniently placed before her. He found a glass and took up the bottle, pouring for them both. Refuting Chuck's largesse for a principle seemed a little ridiculous. Besides, it was the best champagne he'd ever tasted.

Dancing with the other girls was a necessity, and not altogether disagreeable. Serena generous in both her movement and her smiles and Georgina always a little too close. Both beautiful, but he was thankful when he returned to the table to find Blair waiting to press her hand into his. "My turn now."

The combination of Serena and Georgina seemed to have made Blair discard her usual reserve, giving herself up to immoderation. Dan hadn't seen her drunk, he had hardly been so drunk himself, outside the company of Nate and a few undergraduate parties that Blair would never grace with her company. He couldn't blame her; he had found the moonshine sodden romps a little vulgar for his own tastes. But tonight, whether it was the champagne or the smiles from a beautiful brunette, the combination was intoxicating. She wanted to dance and with him and who was he to deny her choice.

Blair, for once, didn't seem to mind when he missed a step and the absence of her condescending glances loosened his inhibition. Or maybe the constant flow of alcohol to their table had lubricated his feet as well as his mouth. Her fingers curling into the nape of her neck as she relaxed her stance and stepped closer to him, so that he could almost wrap his arm entirely around her slender waist. It would have been criminal for him look down at his feet while her own eyes glowed so frankly before him. He just told his feet to not let him down, and so far they seemed to be agreeable.

He'd lost count of the number of tunes they had stayed on the floor for, his attention entirely focussed on the girl in his arms. It was only when she requested that he take her back to the table that he noticed the dance floor had grown more rowdy. Drunken patrons staggered through the couples and more than one pair had abandoned dancing completely, standing closely entwined and mouths engaged with the other. The whole atmosphere had been generally shady to begin with and was now utterly debauched.

Blair sank into a chair beside him at the deserted table. "That was almost competent, Humphrey. I might be a little impressed." Already she was retreating behind her verbal barriers.

"It's the teacher. I was a hopeless case before I met her."

She turned fully toward him, moving her hand from the table and laying it flat on his chest. "You don't think I'm a harpy do you?"

"No." He laid his fingers over hers. "A siren maybe. Luring humble men to their fates." She was so close he could feel her soft intake of breath.

"Can you take me somewhere else? I don't think I want to be here anymore."

A reckless kind of abandon uncoiled in his belly. "Nor I. Give me your ticket, I'll get your coat."

"We just have to let Serena know. Nate can escort her home."

Dan took her hand and pulled her to her feet. "I'm sure he'd be more than happy to oblige."

The floor was even more of a crush than when he and Blair had been dancing but Serena's distinctive hair and her height should still be spotted with ease in any crowd. She was not to be seen and Nate was equally as invisible.

"They must be in the private rooms." Dan noted the closed door next to the bar. His steady grip on Blair's hand was insufficient to protect her from the jostling of the crowd so he slipped his hand around her waist to guide her across the room, tightening his hold, as she pressed closer to him.

The door was unlocked, opening onto an empty corridor. Instead of following the raucous sound of laughter emanating from behind one of the doors, Blair leaned back against the wall, fingers playing over the beaded neckline of her lace gown. His eyes flicked between her lips and her distracting fingers tracing over her exposed collar bone.

The smile that crossed her features as she followed his eyes was tormentingly slow. "Why didn't you kiss me yesterday?"

Her question startled him but his determination to maintain a cool exterior made him suppress his nervous reaction. He leaned his hand on the doorjamb behind her head, his voice low. "Did you want me to? I didn't know."

Blair placed her hands around his lapel, looking up at him under provocative lids. "Why don't you kiss me now?"

He could almost count each one of her long lashes. "Do you want me to?" His lips curled up at the incensed expression his words provoked from her. She was impossible not to tease, even when all he wanted to do was please her.

"Stop answering my questions with more questions. You always do…" The rest of her reply was cut short by his mouth crushing hers, his open eyes noting the way the piqued crease in her brow smoothed as she gave immediately in to his insistent lips. She tasted of gin and champagne and something sweet and musky he couldn't quite name.

His hand slipped down to hold the back of her head, pressing her closer to him, her mouth opening further under his in response. The weight of her dress was heavy against his knee as his leg found itself between her thighs and her soft pant and her tapered fingertips on his neck sent his senses spinning. He lowered his head to the valley of silken skin below her ear and she arched against him. Every curve of her soft body imprinted themselves upon him as he slid his hands over her hips, fingers kneading her yielding flesh.

Dan was well beyond any ability to see past the haze of lust that clouded his vision. Her hand abandoned the trail it had been blazing down his chest under his jacket and groped for the door handle beside her. "Let's see where this goes." It opened under her distracted fingers and the pressure their shared bodies pushing against its panelling made it give way with a jolt.

A peel of laughter greeted them making Dan release the alarmed Blair, who almost fell from the loss of his hands. "Welcome, lovebirds." His desire drained from him in rush. Georgina looked up from a low table, a pile of white powder before her and a smirk twisting her pretty mouth. The room was hazy with smoke and various low couches littered the floor, inhabited by a small collection of people entirely unknown to Dan. Serena lay back upon some cushions, her glazed eyes drooping lazily.

Blair stepped further into the room. Her ability to collect herself, even under the most adverse conditions, filled him with admiration. "Serena?"

The blonde girl lifted her head. "B! There you are!" Her giddy smile encompassed the both of them as she put her hands up toward Blair's face. "Darling, you've smudged your lipstick."

Dan felt his own lips, noting the waxy residue left from Blair's mouth, trying to discreetly remove it with his fingers. His efforts to were mostly futile. He groped for his handkerchief to remove the remainder, under Georgina's amused gaze. "There's a private room, two doors down on the left. You really should take advantage of it. But first, please, be my guest." She gestured to the table where tidy short white lines were arranged neatly across the table.

Dan had never been offered cocaine before but, he had to confess, his inquisitive mind had always wondered about forms of alternate reality and the affects on his writing. But the seamy environment and the unsavoury characters present in the room made him decline without regret. "Uh…thank you…but no thank you. We were just looking for Serena."

The dark haired girl blinked at him disbelievingly. "Oh? Your loss."

"Serena, you are completely out on the roof." Blair's voice was sharp with concern.

"I know, you really should try it, B, it makes you just want to dance and talk and dance some more." She held up her hands, sloshing the contents of her glass onto the side of her chair.

Blair crossed her arms before her. "Serena, you feel like that anyway. This is sordid, let's get out of here."

"It isn't sordid, it's charming, I'm charming and you and Dan are…"

"Charming. Serena, I really want to go, please come with me. I'm not leaving without you."

"You go. You wouldn't want me around anyway." Her eyes slid across to where Dan stood, her words slurring together. "I'll be fine with G here."

Blair shot Georgina a look clearly expressing her lack of faith in the idea. "Serena, Dan brought us both here and is obliged to escort the both of us home. It would be most ungentlemanly for him to abandon you."

Dan gave a start. Without doubt it was his duty to see the both of them home, he had been a little remiss not to consider it before. Only this aspect of his company hadn't been a priority to Blair not so long before. He eyed the other people in the room, some talking animatedly, others lounging, but there were definitely several unaccompanied gentlemen playing close attention to their conversation. "Serena, I really think you should come with us. Blair, will you be ok if I leave you for a moment. I need to find Nate."

Blair met his eyes. "Yes, and then can you take us home?"

He nodded, returning her gaze as he departed. His urgency to find Nate increased the longer he left Blair with the inebriated Serena. The only thing to do was try and find him in one of the rooms in the L shaped corridor. He made his way along it, knocking at each door. He opened the first that was unlocked to a muffled shout from a dishevelled gentleman and some feminine giggles from a shadowed bed. He treated the following doors with more circumspection. Brothel, gambling den and speakeasy in one, he had to get Blair and Serena off the premises.

Finally, at the end of the corridor, his cautious knock on the door was rewarded. It opened narrowly, exposing only a disinterested looking attendant. "Yes, sir?"

"I'm looking for Nathaniel Archibald. Is he here?"

"Your name?"

"Uh…Daniel Humphrey."

The door shut firmly in his face. He hovered there, unsure whether to try the last remaining doors or just abandon his friend and hail a cab. The door opened again before he could choose either of the options. "Please come in, sir. Mr Archibald will see you."

Nate was ensconced in a game of poker in a smoky room. The gathering of men around the table was a motley assortment and Chuck Bass held court at one end, attended by a scantily clad cocktail waitress. The stakes on the table almost made Dan wince.

"Excuse me, gentlemen." Nate stood and walked over to join him by the door. "Dan, what is it? My luck's in, she's a fickle companion and I don't want to leave her alone for long."

"It's Serena, Blair and I need to take her home. Can we use your car?"

Nate nodded without hesitation. "No question at all. I'll catch a cab later if I must. Is she ok?"

"I think so, but she's completely snowed and we can't leave her here."

"Wait a second, I'll come." Nate walked back over to the table, voicing his apologies as his hand swept over the table, collecting the pile of notes scattered upon it. It earned him a collective groan from the gathering.

Chuck shook his head. "Damn you, Archibald, you're taking half the table with you. I was planning on winning that back from you tonight."

He smiled back at him. "Next time, Chuck. It always evens out in the end. And if it doesn't, well then," he eyed the cocktail waitress, "I'm sure you'll find consolation somewhere." With a civil nod at the rest of the company he gave his farewell and joined Dan at the door. "Where is she?"

"Down the hall. Blair's with her. I'd like to get them out of here, this place is sleazery itself."

"I know. A den of iniquity. I'm not sure why you thought it would be a good idea to bring the girls here at all."

"If you recall, Nate, you are the only one of us that had been here before and if you had shared that bit of knowledge with me earlier, we could have avoided this." He knocked briefly on the door before stepping back into the room, Nate close on his heels. Blair was seated on the sofa next to Serena, a look of distaste fixed on her features. The blonde was laughing uproariously to some unknown joke that the Blair clearly didn't find as amusing.

"Nate, darling!" Serena leaped to her feet knocking several glasses off the table. "Whoops! Join us! Blair and Dan are no fun."

"No, they aren't, but you see, we should get going."

"Ohhhh." Serena's face dropped. "You're as bad as them."

"Sweetheart, I'm sorry. We have to go now. Next time, yes?"

Serena nodded and dropped back into her seat. Despite her acquiescence getting her to leave, without physically picking her up and carrying her, was more time consuming than any of the company was prepared for. Nate finally pulled her to her feet and with a firm, supporting arm, guided her from the room.

The ride back to the penthouse was uneventful, except for Serena's descent from euphoria to queasiness. Her pleas to get them to stop at another saloon petered to a halt and she eventually leaned her head over to rest in Blair's lap. It severely impeded any opportunity Dan had to take Blair's hand in his own.

Nate told the driver to wait while they escorted the girls indoors. It took all his golden persuasion to get Serena out of the car and both of the gentlemen's arms to escort her stumbling frame up the stairs.

The apartment was quiet when Blair unlocked the door. She raised her fingers to her lips. "Shhh…you'll wake Dorota. I don't want her to see Serena like this. Help me get her up the stairs."

Dan eyed the narrow curving stairs with misgiving. "Nate, I think this is your department." Nate swept Serena's docile body up into his arms and followed Blair up the steps. Dan vacillated; he doubted they needed his assistance, so he remained helplessly at the base of the stairs.

His friend returned very shortly and Blair not long after, her eyes immediately fixing an accusatory gaze on his companion's face. "Nathaniel Archibald, have you seen Serena in this state before?"

Nate shook his head. "No… not really. Certainly drunk but never staggeringly so, like this."

Blair paced across the floor. "I blame Chuck."

"Chuck never gets drunk. I've no idea of the full extent of what he gets up to but I've never seen him even remotely affected."

"He's her half brother and he just encourages her."

"Chuck would never allow anything happen to Serena and neither would I. She's got to know some pretty shady characters all on her own."

She stopped her pacing and looked directly at Nate again. "So then, what were you doing when this was happening?"

"I don't know how it happens, she just smiles at someone and suddenly they're best friends. I can't keep up at all. And I do watch out for her, of course I do. I just thought you and Dan were with her tonight." Dan made a mental note to make sure he imprinted on Nate the paramount importance of keeping his eye on both Serena and Blair when he was out, whether he was accompanying them or not. Supporting female emancipation was one thing, failing to protect the vulnerable was entirely another. As an older brother, he knew the instinct well.

Blair kept peppering Nate with questions. "And what about this Georgina?"

"Serena only met her recently. She's mostly harmless I think.

"You think? She's a snowbird!"

"Maybe, I don't know her well. But she's not loose and she always seems in control."

"She's trouble." Dan had to agree with Blair. The girl clearly was a magnet for danger.

"I don't know, Blair. You should come out with Serena if you want to know more. She never behaves like this if you're with her."

"I'm not her keeper."

The rising pitch of Blair's voice made Dan rest his hand on her arm. "Blair, it's late, and we don't want to wake the house. Nate and I should go and we will both come back tomorrow to find out if Serena's ok. I'm sure Nate will be happy for you to yell at him some more if you need to, but right now I think he's as concerned as you."

She turned her gaze to his, her dark eyes softening. "I've never seen her like this before. I can't help but worry."

He rubbed his hands down her arms, wishing Nate to kingdom come so he could pull her to him. "I'll come and see you tomorrow." Blair held out her hand in farewell, her face closed and a little pensive in the dimmed lighting. On impulse, he gave into his earlier desire and turned her slender hand over, dropping his head to plant a swift kiss on the soft skin of the inside of her wrist. "Goodnight, Blair. Tomorrow."

She blinked up at him, holding the wrist he had just released with her fingers. "Yes…tomorrow."


	11. Chapter 11

**Sorry, sorry, sorry. It's been so long. I hope there's enough romance in this chapter to make up for it! If I have any readers left…**

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><p>Blair couldn't shake off the haze of overindulgence. The night before had ended at a very late, very unsatisfying hour, Serena's licentiousness interrupting the intimacy she had found, encouraged if she were honest, with Dan. A level of awareness difficult to retreat from, although it was entirely possible he could visit her and breezily ignore all that had passed between them.<p>

She tossed uncomfortably in her bed wondering where they could have ended if Serena's folly hadn't foiled their plans to escape the speakeasy. The passion behind his kisses made her disregard any consequences and she would have gone anywhere with him, if he'd asked her. She wondered if that made her as amoral as Serena.

That wasn't to be thought of. Blair considered the blonde girl again and found she couldn't remain in bed any longer, erupting from the bedclothes and pulling her kimono over her negligee. The bathroom that connected their bedrooms was still littered with the debris of their extended toilette. She felt so far from their camaraderie it was difficult to believe it had only been the day before.

Serena's rumpled head was buried into a pillow marked with the previous evenings mascara. It took a while to rouse her, the hard words on Blair's lips waiting until they had proper audience. She stood back from the bed as Serena finally sat up. The sleepily ingenuous smile she finally offered did nothing to allay Blair's resolve to express her disappointment at her friend's behaviour in the most direct terms. "Are you crazy? What were you thinking disappearing last night, to that…with that girl?"

Serena rubbed her eyes and looked groggily at the black that it left on her fingertips. "You mean Georgina? I don't really know what you're talking about."

Her hands found their way to her hips. "The sleazy dope den?"

"It wasn't sleazy, it was fun. You and Dan were dancing. I couldn't find Nate or Chuck." Her words took on a note of defiance. "What was I meant to do? Sit at the table like a gooseberry?"

"Obviously you had to find the lowest form of life present and immediately sink to its level."

Serena's face twisted. "We were supposed to be going out together and instead you spent all your time with your tongue hanging out all over Daniel Humphrey."

Blair felt her rage kindle. Waldorf tongues do not hang out. "I'm not your minder, Serena."

"Oh, no? Clearly you think you are. I don't know why you didn't just take Dan somewhere and forget about me. I wasn't your priority when you found me. Instead you just ruin my evening."

"I ruined your evening? That's rich."

Serena laid her head back into her pillows, closing her eyes. "Please just go away. You're making my head ache."

Blair traced her steps back to the bathroom, rummaging until her hand found a small medicine jar of aspirin. She returned to Serena, filling a glass of water from the jug by her bed. "Here."

"Aspirin? What's that going to do?" Serena sat up and rummaged through the drawer in her bedside table, retrieving a small amber bottle. "This will be far more effective."

"Laudanum, Serena?"

"My doctor prescribed it, it's fine."

Eleanor had maintained a close relationship with the laudanum bottle earlier in Blair's youth and the struggle she had had to give it up had been something her daughter wouldn't forget in hurry. She looked at Serena dosing herself with misgiving. "I don't know what kind of quack you're seeing but is that really necessary for a head ache?"

"Blair, enough with the judging. I don't understand what your problem is. We have more opportunity for fun than possibly anyone has ever had before us and you want to live like a dowager? Enough time for that when you're married."

Blair resisted the temptation to correct the fundamental flaw in her comparison and furthered her offense instead. "What happens if my mother finds out? She'll drag me back to Paris without a second thought."

"How will she find out? And what does it matter? It's my life. I can't see how it could possibly affect you."

"Of course it affects me. Your mother may not care how you conduct yourself but mine certainly will."

Serena's words slowed as the laudanum took effect. "I don't particularly care right now, B. Later, I promise I'll try to care." She buried her head back beneath her pillows and Blair swallowed her words, mentally filing away them away for future application. She did allow herself the small pleasure of slamming the door behind her as she left the room, finding comfort in the effect it would have on Serena's head, even though the sound reverberated unpleasantly through her own. She swallowed the rejected aspirin to allay the niggling ache that had throbbed behind her eyes since she woke. Dressing and planning her days work should be her priority. Her presentation was in a week. She didn't have the time or inclination to deal with Serena and set them to rights.

Blair dressed carefully, balancing the need to be becoming and to be practical; it would never do to mark her Vionnet with ink. The difficulty she had in casting her housemate from her mind diminished when she entered her study. The pile of books Dan had carried back to her penthouse for her sat untouched on her desk. The sight of them recalled his words in the early hours of the morning. As little as she needed the diversion she hoped he would come.

She sat purposefully at her desk, laying out the block of pressed watercolour paper and her brushes, inks and paints. And then stopped, looking helplessly upon the array. What had seemed so simple, so obvious, only the day before, now overwhelmed her with its ambition. For the first time Blair felt disquiet at the task she had set for herself. If her presentation was Friday there was no time for mistakes or second thoughts. She took a piece of blank notepaper and began to set out a logical plan of personal deadlines for the remaining time. She had 5 days and nine characters to prepare. One day each for the women, Cecily, Gwendolen and Lady Bracknell; another for Algernon and Jack; and the last for the sundry characters.

She cast her eye over the rest of the week in her diary. Fabric sampling on the Wednesday with Dan, a paper on the Italian Renaissance due on Thursday (she had hardly started so she noted that the first thing to do Monday was see her tutor to plead for an extension. Otherwise she couldn't see how she could even fit in time to sleep.) And looming mid term exams to prepare for. The other tasks could be disregarded. Blair's mind searched ahead, considering the rest of the semester. Perhaps Dan had been right, she was allowing her passion for vengeance affect her tranquillity. The orderly plan she created at least gave her a sense of comfort that everything was achievable. It only left the actual work to be done.

Several hours later found Blair deeply absorbed in her mission, revisiting the research she and Dan had collected at the library, occasionally supplementing it with a book of her own. She could almost wish she had her mother's attendance. Eleanor's extensive knowledge of fashion would be useful, not least in deciphering the subtleties of necklines in the eveningwear of 1894. Almost, but not quite, her constant corrections and unwarranted opinions would make Blair want to discard the task altogether. But slowly her sketches took form, as did the pile of rejected attempts beside her.

Dorota's voice calling her name drew Blair's focus away from her most pleasing attempt so far and a snap of irritation marred her peace. Why she couldn't attend to her in person rather than hollering like a peasant, she would never know. She laid her pencil down and made her way to the stairs.

"Am I a dog, Dorota? To call when...oh…" The words on her lips died as she peered down the stairway to see two gentlemen, still guarded thickly against the weather. Nate's eyes were distracted but Dan's met hers with amusement.

She reclaimed her poise and she walked down the stairs, regarding the mass of daffodils in Dan's arms. Not her favourites, despite her love of colour in her dress, she preferred her blooms to be a little less showy, like the delicate hues of peonies. Where he was to find peonies in February, she wasn't sure. But the yellow flowers lit up the room, as did his smile. "Can you come for a walk in the park with me? It's cold but the sun is out and I think the crocus may be blooming."

Blair's lips curled up, her grim mood dissolving. "I would like. But I have work to do. No time to _consider the lilies_ with you, Humphrey."

He gave a mock sigh and held out the flowers in his hands. "I feared it. So I bought spring to you, in case Lady Bracknell was holding you hostage."

A flush warmed her cheeks as she took the blossoms from him. "Narcissus? Not flattering."

"No indeed, Waldorf, how can you think so? There's none more worthy to be rapt in self admiration."

She bit her lip to smother her smile and turned from him, turning his corrupted compliment over in her mind. Nate was watching their exchange bemusedly, almost forgotten by them, and the slight shock his presence gave her made her retreat into civility.

"Please, let Vanya remove your coats. Vanya?" She called out to her errant footman before smiling graciously back at her guests. "Would you like tea?"

Nate untucked the muffler from about his neck as Vanya appeared and began plucking at his coat. "I thought I was here to be chastised. But I'll take some refreshment as well, if you will."

Blair gave a smirk at his sheepish look. "It's fine, Nate, I own last night wasn't your fault. Serena wouldn't even have left if it weren't for your intervention. I'll even offer you my sincere gratitude for your persuasion. She won't listen to me."

Nate shook his head. "I should have been with her. How is she?"

"That you'll have to ask her yourself."

"Is she here? Can I see her?"

Blair wondered at the propriety of directing visitors of the male gender to the room of her housemate, but if it meant she could take Dan to her study to entertain in seclusion then respectability could be damned. "Of course. But she's still sleeping off her excesses. Up the stairs to the 2nd room on the left."

Dorota took a step toward the steps, casting both Blair and Nate a disapproving look. "Mr Nathaniel, I go wake Miss Serena. Please wait her in the parlour."

Blair rolled her eyes. "Fine then. We'll all await Serena's pleasure, shall we?" She thrust the daffodils she was holding toward Dorota. "Set these in water and bring tea to the parlour." She had to abandon her plans for the study. Even if she wanted Nate in her sanctuary, the lack of a third chair would leave someone hovering uncomfortably.

At least Dan took the seat beside her on the sofa, leaving a single chair for Nate. She could just graze her knee against his as she turned toward her other guest. "So tell me Nate, I didn't get a chance to ask you last night. Why in heaven's name would you pick Daniel to co-host your party?"

"Moral support, Blair. I keep asking him to room with me but the dog keeps refusing."

She turned to Dan, a smiled lighting her face. "You didn't tell me. It's perfect. You just have to, the rooms on campus are simply stifling."

"I hope to, next semester."

"But…why not now?"

Dan clasped his hands before him. "Uh… I need to talk to my Dad about it."

"You don't discuss with your parents. You simply tell them what you are going to do."

"Blair, it's so near the end of semester that it seems foolish to upend myself."

His argument was nonsensical. "But it's still February?"

"No matter. I promise my residence in Morningside Heights won't affect my availability, Blair."

"I don't think that's the issue here, Humphrey." Her words were dry but his obvious reticence made her drop the topic. She would have to pursue it when they were alone. Blair instead began needling Nate for more detail of his party. He had done little but settle the date for the end of March, on the Easter weekend. "You need a list of objectives. Dorota?"

Her flustered companion scuttled into the room. "Miss Blair, I… getting tea."

"Forget that. Get a pen and paper and start making notes for Nate. And don't roll your eyes at me." Dorota obliged her, returning swiftly with the requested items.

It was a satisfying diversion, planning the tasks Nate needed to achieve, taking her attention from the ever-revolving themes occupying her thoughts. Nate seemed to find it otherwise, however, and Dan simply sat silent, his mouth twisting with amusement. "I had no idea it was all so complex, Blair. I must say I'm beginning to regret ever thinking of it."

"It's easy, Nate. How many parties have you attended? You had to have been paying some kind of attention."

A rueful smile crossed his face. "I guess not."

The patter of footsteps made their conversation pause. Serena's bright head appeared over the banister. "Good morning, Nate, Dan. So lovely of you to call on us."

Blair interrupted her companion's polite greetings to her housemate. "Afternoon rather, Serena. This oh-so civil attendance is more of an exercise to find out if you're still with this world."

Serena took a seat on the other armchair, failing to acknowledge Blair at all. "Thank you for your courtesy. I am feeling quite fine. Fabulous even."

"Of course you do. You're the only one here who has no recollection of how you got home last night."

Serena turned to Blair, finally acknowledging her. "You are impossible! Nate, will you escort me out?"

Nate looked as though he couldn't wait to depart. "I…of course…sure. Where to?"

"Anywhere, I don't care. This apartment isn't presently big enough for both Blair and myself."

Blair gave him a smirk in assent. "You'd be doing us both a favour."

Serena turned on her heels toward the hall, dismissing Vanya as he attempted to assist her into her coat. "Farewell, Dan, unless you would like to come with us? I know how tedious it can be to have Blair sniping at you all day."

Dan raised his brow. "Uh…no. Thanks… I'm ok."

"Oh. I guess you like that sort of thing?"

Serena's snide tones grated on Blair's nerves. "Serena, let Daniel be. And try not to disturb me when you get home. I've seen you all I need today." She waited for the sounds of the departing pair to fade and then turned to give Dan a smile. "Finally."

He returned her gaze, his dark eyes holding a hint of concern. "Is everything ok? That was a bit tense."

"It's fine. Serena just needs to learn some discretion. I don't even want to think about her right now. Dan, my presentation's Friday and I have a mountain of work to do. Can we..."

His smile faded. "I should go and leave you to it."

"No…stay." The words sounded imperious, even to her own ears. She softened her tones. "Please, have you your books? You can study while I work."

"I won't be a distraction?"

"N...no." Not an unwelcome one anyway. "Come to my study."

She stood and proceeded to the stairs without waiting for an answer, the definite steps behind her telling that he'd fallen in with her plans. Her chest tightened at the thought of finding herself secluded with him.

His company made the small study seem cosier than before. She was deceiving herself if she thought she'd be able to regain the serene focus on her work in his presence, no matter how quiet he was. That would just give her more opportunity to ponder his lips and wonder if it would be too brazen to plant herself on his lap and wrap his arms around her.

"Blair…wait." His hand caught her wrist as she passed before the hearth and turned her toward him. "Can I…can I…kiss you hello?"

She tried to keep her response light, like she didn't care, but if he could mistake her agitation then he was truly blind. "So confident, Humphrey."

A slight flush stained his cheeks as he lifted his fingers to her chin. "I thought it would be foolish not to take the opportunity before we're interrupted. As we always seem to be."

A delicious shiver ran over her. "I guess that's true." She blinked up at him in invitation. "It might be prudent."

He took a step closer and dropped his lips to hers tentatively, soft and persuasive. It felt new, different to the vehemence that had marked those previous. She laid her hand to his chest as he pressed her closer, feeling the rate of his heart quicken, matching her own. The kiss was swiftly followed by another, deeper than the first, and yet another as her hands crept up to his neck.

He pulled away and Blair leaned back into the arms circling her waist. "I thought we were under a curse. But third time's the charm."

"Fourth time."

"So it is." He took her hand, uncurling it from his neck as he pressed another fleeting kiss to her mouth. "And now to work, Waldorf. I'm not here to distract you."

She sighed. He was right, damn him. She shot him a mutinous look as she sat back at her desk. "How am I meant to concentrate now?"

xoxoxoxox

It had been easier than Dan thought to clasp her hand and draw Blair to him; he could hardly believe she would be so willing. He took a seat, shooting glances at her lowered head as he retrieved her copy of Les Miserables from his bag. He had almost finished it, finding himself absorbed in the compelling romance. It made him realise, with startling clarity, how much everything he wrote was driven by the same theme.

Blair gave a sigh and he looked up to find her looking at him intently. "I don't see why you can't move in with Nate."

He had to smother his laugh. It had been clear downstairs that the topic hadn't been exhausted. "I can't. Not yet." He didn't want to tell her that he couldn't afford the rent; that he didn't want to be indebted to Nate. She knew he was poor, only at Columbia through scholarship, but to say the words took it beyond careless conversation and gave the gap between their lives substance. "My Dad likely won't allow me to and my scholarship alone won't cover private board."

"Nate won't care about that."

"I care about it."

The noise Blair made spoke of her disdain. "You care about the most inconsequential things."

"Perhaps. Not everything I care about is inconsequential."

Her eyes dropped from his. "Well, if you care at all about me not looking like a fool on Friday you can find me the Jennie Jerome portrait in that book of Sargent. I need to look at the sequin detail. And the Manovens in the Spanish collection, I can't remember the name of the painting. They're both in that pile there"

Finding the Sargent was easy enough but the lithographs of Manovens troubled him with luscious images of barely clad odalisques. The ivory skin bought to mind the white sweep of Blair's neck and shoulders, translucent in a backless gown.

He managed to book mark the references for her and settle back into some kind of rhythm with his book until Dorota disturbed the peace with a rattling tea trolley. Blair raised her head from her work. "Is that cacophony strictly necessary, Dorota?"

"I thought you might like refreshment." A vase holding the daffodils Dan had bought embellished the tray of sandwiches. He thought, a little regretfully, how gauche they looked in the opulent surroundings. But the sandwiches were welcome, reminding him of how snatched his breakfast had been.

"Thank you, Dorota, but if we wanted refreshments we would have rung." The expression in her eyes softened as she regarded the flowers. "But now you're here you can place that vase on my desk."

Dan allowed Dorota to fill his cup before she departed, thanking her with a sincere smile. He lowered his head back to his book with a struggle. What were words but strings of letters when romance herself lived and breathed before him? Even Hugo was conspiring against him. _Love almost replaces thought. Love is a burning forgetfulness of everything else. _He wanted to mark the words. Underline them in ink so she would read them even as she cursed him for his impudence. His rebellious fingers groped for a pencil, his eyes watchful as he traced a fine line beneath.

The pencil in his fingers set words tumbling through his mind, as if it were a trigger. Blair's downcast eyes allowed Dan to gaze at her without circumspection. At the picture she made against the wide bay window with the light spilling over the desk. The yellow of the flowers picking out the golden hues of her clothing and in her hair that fell over her eyes. He discarded the novel and took up his notebook instead. Finding a blank page in the slim volume was becoming a challenge. Dan listed all the gifts Blair had given him. The visit to the theatre, the dancing lesson, her books, the diary. He wasn't sure how to reciprocate. He had nothing to give her but his company. And his words. Flowers were too ephemeral to count. A poem falteringly came to life on the page. He felt the words were trite but it began to absorb him so wholly that Blair's words startled him.

"Lilac or lavender?"

"Sorry?"

"Which do you prefer?"

"Uh…I don't think…I don't know the difference."

"Humphrey, that doesn't help me at all. What are you writing?"

"I hardly know." He put the notebook down. "Let me see what you're doing. I need to put your question into context."

He rose and went to lean over the desk beside her. "Let me see…definitely the lavender. The lilac is far to virginal for Bracknell."

Blair's laughed and dipped her head back over her page, tapered fingertips tucking a dark wing of hair behind her ear and her brow puckering in thought. A queer pang struck as he looked at her. How blissful, how easy could companionship be? And how unjust it was, that such a perfect cocoon could be so transient.

She was so focused on her work it seemed she had forgotten his presence, but she lifted her head, smiling a smile that went straight to his head. "Humphrey, I can't work with you looking at me.

"I'm sorry… It's just that…you're so lovely in the sunlight it's hard to look anywhere else."

Her head cocked slightly to the side as her eyebrows rose ever so slightly, entirely arrested. "Oh…how so?"

He had to smile at how readily she tried to win more compliments from him. "Well, there's never been a freckle more perfect than the one that graces the corner of your mouth."

She bit her lip. She was so close he could hear the intake of her breath. "Where?"

He lowered his mouth to kiss the spot. "Here."

"Lucky freckle. Although I protest that I have any. You could aim higher."

"Oh, I will." He turned her head toward him as his mouth breathed a path over her porcelain skin. She lifted her chin to welcome him, shifting her lips to catch his. He pulled away before she could draw him deeper, the frisson of desire that overtook him warning him against tugging her up into his arms and taking advantage of her willing mouth. "There. And now I should go. You have more important things to attend to than me."

She looked as though she would protest. He hoped that she would. "You could stay and dine with me?"

"I'm not sure Dorota would find that suitable."

"I don't care what Dorota thinks."

He brushed his palm over her cheek once more. "You may find that you do."

Her hand met his by her ear, her dark eyes meeting his with candour. "You can stay a little longer. I…I work better with company."

"How can I resist that invitation?" He pressed another fleeting kiss to her lips, avoiding the insistence of her fingers on his neck and forced himself away, moving to the other side of her desk.

Blair looked wry. "I don't know. You're over there."

He laughed. "For my safety. I have my paper on Hugo to finish."

She blinked at him. "What will you borrow next?"

Dan stepped over to the bookshelf and ran his fingers over the titles, lingering on the shelf holding her collection of Lawrence. "I won't tempt myself. I too am behind in my work and shouldn't be reading just for pleasure."

He settled back into the chair, the leather chilly against his back, picking up his notebook again to revisit the words he had been composing. The poem had been given as much attention as it merited. The desire Blair had aroused was affecting his writing in a way that it could soon become salacious and he thought it wise to abandon it. He pulled the page free from the binding, trying to muffle the sound of tearing paper so not to attract Blair's attention. It came loose easily.

Before he could give it more thought he picked up Blair's copy of _Les Miserables _again, flipping through the book to find the lines he had marked previously. They were too blatant, an outright declaration. He continued until he hit upon something more likely. _The jostling of young minds against each other has this wonderful attribute, that one can never foresee the spark, nor predict the flash._ He tucked the poem into the book half hoping she wouldn't find it. It would never do for her to realise how she occupied his mind.

"It's growing dark. I really should go." He closed the book and stood, turning to place it back in the shelf.

"Leave that. I'll put it back." She stood and held out her hand.

"I can just…"

"Humphrey, I don't trust you to put it back in the right place."

"But I can see the space for it right…"

She stepped around her desk and tugged it from his resisting fingers, placing it on the coffee table before tucking her own hand in its place. "Will I see you before Wednesday?"

He clasped her warm skin. "Ah yes, fabric. I can hardly wait."

"Don't be snide."

"The kettle speaks. When will you be on campus next?"

She shook her head. "I'm rather tied here. Only tomorrow morning and I think you have class."

"Well, then Wednesday it is."

"If only you lived with Nate, I could…" Her plaintive words trailed off. "I could visit you. With Dorota of course."

"Of course. In time, Blair, I just can't yet." He stepped closer and leaned to kiss her pouting lips.

She gave a resigned sigh against his mouth, raising her free hand to grip his lapel. "Why is everything on your terms?"


	12. Chapter 12

**Wow, I don't think I can keep up this momentum, but here's some more. Thank you for the lovely reviews.**

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><p>It deeply annoyed Blair that she was required to always wait on prearranged appointments with Dan. She could find him on campus if she arranged her days just so, but her preoccupation with the costume designs had left her no time to spend on whim. He, of course, was far too scrupulous to just drop in on her for an impromptu visit.<p>

That he was so reticent about moving in with Nate was typical of his contrary nature. It would be better for him, better for his status and for his writing she was convinced. And it would be far better for her. It was becoming imperative that she find more time alone with him. Her study had become their refuge but she still couldn't lock the door and forget the existence of all else.

Despite Dorota's ineptitude as a chaperone, Blair still had to be wary of her. Even though a simple threat to return her to Poland and hand her over to the oppressors would cow her completely, the danger of her invoking the powers of Eleanor was another thing to be considered altogether.

Blair stood before her hearth stretching the kinks out of her joints from the long hours spent at her desk. The book Dan had returned only a few days before was still lying on the table before her. She picked it up, tracing her fingers over the embossed cover, enjoying the fact that his had been in the exact place only a few days before. She smiled and opened it to check for any trace of damage, almost hoping to find some. The enjoyment she would derive from scolding him for it would outweigh any possible permanent harm to her book collection. The book however, was pristine. He'd left nothing but a bookmark. She unfolded the slip of notepaper, turning it in her fingers to find the words written upon it.

_For a yellow dress_

_Casting glamour over sullen ground_

_Bold cheek turned toward the spring_

_A treasure more than one's own sum_

_Jonquil bright beguiling_

_Golden herald bearing sudden wonder_

_Does your perfection come undone?_

_Is your glory dimmed by what you hold?_

_As petals bow before the sun_

The prickle of emotion that ran over her was so alien she shivered and the book dropped from her hands to the floor. Words only for her. Flowers she had received before but never this. Her eyes scanned over the poem once, twice again, already committing them to memory. Blushing as she noted the imagery masking the desire that lay beneath the words. She almost wished she could share it with Serena; her pleasure seemed too great to keep to herself. But it was too precious, too new to reveal. The daffodils still sat on her desk, the buds fully opened in the warm room. She leaned toward them, her heart full, breathing in the warm scent.

Blair wandered through to her bedroom clutching the paper to her chest. She had to move, it would be impossible to go back to her desk when her spirit was so overwhelmed. She took a seat at her dressing table and looked critically in the mirror. Her general aura of delight was unmistakable. The dress he referred to she knew immediately, she could recall getting Dorota to examine it in case any ink from Vanessa had stained it on the very first tentative day of her friendship with him. If she could she'd put it on and go haunt Dan at Hartley Hall immediately. It was intolerable that she couldn't see him.

"Can I borrow your silver fox?"

She looked up to see Serena's reflection. She almost smiled before remembering they were at odds. "You've ignored me for 2 days and that's all you can say?"

Serena paused. "No… yes…I thought the ignoring was mutual. Can't we just move on? I'd rather do anything than keep fighting with you, Blair."

"Moving on generally involves apologies and promises not to repeat the behaviour." Blair found her words were softer than intended. It was difficult for her to express herself harshly under the circumstances.

"I'm not exactly sure what I'm apologising for. What have you got against fun? But I'm sorry if you think I let you down." Serena laid her hand over her heart and opened her eyes wide. "I vow that from now on if it's my role to be the third wheel for the evening then I'll play the part without complaints."

Blair snorted but she couldn't maintain her ire against Serena's simple charm and her own elation. "Very gallant of you, S, but I can't imagine any situation where that description would apply to you."

"I just miss us. When it would be just the two of us and no one else mattered. Come out with me tonight? It could be like old times."

Blair shook her head. "Or you could stay in with me? We could study for mid terms together."

Serena looked at Blair sideways through her lashes. "It's just that I promised Nate I'd meet him."

"But you said it would be only you and I?"

"Nate doesn't count does he?" Serena moved to perch on the arm of Blair's chair and met her gaze in the mirror. "Besides one always makes more of a scene with an eligible bachelor on one's arm."

"But then…" Blair trailed off. It didn't seem worthwhile pointing out that the third wheel would then be her part. Nate was so careless in his attentions that it didn't really count, even though Blair was convinced that his interest in her fickle friend was more serious than he let on. "No, I really shouldn't. I have to finish my designs."

"We could invite Dan." Serena raised her eyebrows in a less than subtle manner.

Blair laughed. "It's probably a little too close to Saturdays nights adventure to entice him out with you and Nate again. And he has class in the morning. I'll see him tomorrow."

"You've already arranged to see him again and…Blair, do you actually know his schedule? Is this becoming a serious thing?" Serena's jaw dropped a little.

"Of course it's not." Blair placed her hands over the folded paper before her. "I like his kisses is all, and he's helping me with my research for the play."

"Well, he's so handsome I don't I know why you haven't followed my suggestion and embarked on a torrid affair with him already." Serena lifted her hand and turned Blair's head toward her. "Unless there's something you need to tell me? The way he was kissing you when you nearly fell into that room the other night. Yes, I remember it, you don't have to look at me like that."

Blair felt her cheeks begin to burn. "No…but I'm… I can't say the thought hasn't crossed my mind. I'm just not sure how to go about it. Every moment we have alone seems to be interrupted. It's so hard to find privacy. I didn't realise exactly how difficult it could be to lose one's virtue. And you haven't exactly made it easier."

"It's not that hard. There are hotels, darling."

"Really, Serena, and when my mother hears along the grapevine that her virtuous daughter was seen booking into the Plaza with a man what do you think she's going to do?"

Serena giggled. "Surely you can be a bit more subtle than the Plaza. I tell you what. I could make it all up to you by inviting him to the Hampton's for Spring Break. My Grandmother just bought a house there last summer and she's been asking me to go there for months." She winked. "It's enormous, so many empty rooms to explore, you and Dan could get quite lost. I can invite Nate and G too. And Chuck of course."

Blair shuddered. "Not that girl." She felt resentful that Serena nominated the girl by her initial; it was their thing, not to be shared with interlopers. "But I guess the rest could work, if he'll come. He's so contrary, who knows when he's going to get a bee in his bonnet about respectability. It's another one of his middle class failings."

"Cece will be there, even if she's completely pickled in gin most of the time."

Abruptly Blair lost all inclination to continue the conversation. A weekend spent with Dan, untroubled by Dorota or the closeness of New York society, at a secluded Hampton's house. The flutter of excitement that Serena's idea had instigated turned into a knot of nervous indecision. She stood up from her chair and opened her wardrobe to extract the requested fur. "Here, you should keep this. It looks so much better on you that I can't bear to wear it anyway."

"Really, B? You know how I adore this thing! Oh, and I adore you. I'm so glad we've made up. We have haven't we? I've been so miserable about it all."

Blair smiled her assent and leaned over to kiss Serena. She took her words with doubt though, having seen no evidence of misery or even a little remorse. But life was so much more pleasant when their relationship was free of judgement and recrimination. She probably could have even found it in herself to forgive Vanessa at that moment if she had been near.

Blair until waited the blonde girl left the room to get ready before tucking Dan's poem into her jewellery box beneath the string of black pearls her mother had gifted to her for her eighteenth birthday. Reading over it again just made her think of him, which in turn made her think of Serena's offer. The constant tension that defined her state drove her back to her study. If she weren't careful she could find herself dreaming for the better part of the rest day, succumbing to her predilection for lazy pleasures. Perhaps it was just as well she would be alone again that night. She couldn't afford to lose the time and Serena in high spirits was always a distraction.

She had thought that her attention to the production of the designs would be perfunctory but Blair had found herself rapt in the task. She had never desired her mother's career in fashion. Despite her love of clothes she preferred to critique them rather than placing her own creativity at the mercy of opinion, trying to cater to the tastes of the ungrateful masses.

Designing costumes was different to what she had expected. Teasing out the infinitesimal significances of the narrative and depicting it any way she chose was entirely absorbing. She could combine her love of literature, fashion, performance and control in the one role. And at least the artistic skill required had finally given one of her finishing school accomplishments a purpose.

Her designs placed the setting in the period the play had been written but with a modern stylised twist. Exaggerating the silhouettes of the era, manipulating the beautiful lines to give them a cunning undercurrent. Using colours too murky to be art nouveau but embellishments too convoluted to be completely comfortable in the modern. Drawing inspiration from the beauty of the house of Worth, the poise and detail of Sargent and her own obsession with over complication.

She worked solidly into the night waking early to continue into the next day, pleased that she was ahead of her schedule. All of the female characters were complete and she had started sketching the male leads. She laid them out across the floor of her study and then made a detailed list of all the swatches she required for the afternoon of shopping with Dan. It was regrettable that she hadn't asked him to meet her at her apartment. The cab to meet him at Columbia would take almost as long as it would have taken to get to the fabric district.

Blair could see Dan's dark head bowed over his ubiquitous notebook, oblivious to the jostling passersby, as she stepped from her car. A sudden shyness overtook her as she regarded him. His faint air of scruffiness still prevailed although she would admit his dress had become far more acceptable since he had succumbed to her influence.

He looked up as if he felt the intensity of her stare and his smile was so welcoming and his gaze so warm that she grinned in return.

"Afternoon, Waldorf."

"Hello, Humphrey." Blair laid her hand on his arm, trying to find the right words to greet him. She would have said that his poem had thrilled her, that no one had ever done anything so romantic for her, that she would have almost done anything to see him when she found it. Even that she was wearing fashion six months out of date just to let him know she understood. Instead the tangle of nerves in her stomach only allowed her to make the simplest acknowledgement. "Thank you."

His eyebrow rose quizzically. "How so? Being punctual usually doesn't warrant such effusive gratitude."

"Not that. For..." She cursed that he couldn't read her mind. Instead she took hold of her yellow dress and gave him a demure curtsey. "The poem you left me?"

"Oh… you found it already?" The flush that crept into his cheeks and the regard in his eyes told her he meant to kiss her but the public situation put that out of the question. He took her hand and kissed it instead, the touch of his lips burning through her glove. She wished it could be her mouth.

Blair clasped his hand, trying for nonchalance. "I did. You know, you could have just given it to me. I find your penchant for hiding your writing from me a little trying."

"I guess I just really like that dress. That's our tram coming." He looked a little abashed but retained her fingers in his own as he propelled her toward the trolley stand. His brow lowered in a determined rush to change the subject. "How is it with Serena?"

"Better. We talked yesterday." She didn't feel like elaborating further. "Are you really going to force me to ride on one of those god forsaken death traps again?"

"Waldorf, thousands of people travel on them everyday."

"Yes, and hundreds of people are killed every year. I read the statistics."

"I'm sure there are just as many deaths attributed to cabs."

The tram drew up before them and she viewed the crowded car with approbation. "But at least one wouldn't suffer the indignity of going to ones maker amongst the company of the greater unwashed."

A choke of laughter caught on his lips. "Oh no, the pearly gates couldn't be so poorly organised. I'm sure there is a different queue for the likes of you."

She gripped his hand tighter as he led her to a corner of the carriage. "For your sake you'd best hope so."

Anonymity wasn't usually Blair's preferred but mode but it made it sweet and easy to lean her head against his shoulder. He placed his hand on her waist and she sunk into his warm coat, allowing him to support her during the bone-jarring journey.

It didn't take long for the car to take them to 34th St. Blair watched Dan's eyes grow round at the array of cloth merchants lining the street. "Oh, how Jenny would adore this. I must bring her here."

"Jenny?" The sound of another girl's name on his lips made her question sharper than she intended.

"My sister… you know I have far more experience with haberdashers than you could possibly guess."

"Why, Humphrey, I always took you for a man milliner."

He laughed. "Jenny is a passionate seamstress. I have always been entreated to accompany her to fabric sales and the like."

"Well, I chose my companion wisely then."

"I still think Serena would've been the better choice."

"Oh no, she's far too easily distracted by baubles and shiny things." She dropped his hand and extracted the list she had prepared from her pocketbook. "We have so much to do. I'm pleased you're so well prepared."

"More than you I would hazard. I can't think that the divine Miss Waldorf is too used to haggling in marketplaces."

It was more challenging than she had imagined, and more amusing. Dan kept her hand in his as they traversed the endless shops throughout the district, Blair following her definitive list of swatches. Lace specialists, ribbon shops, so many shades of velvet her head spun, from the sublime to the repellent.

More wonderful were the second-hand clothing markets. At first the idea of scrambling through other people's cast-offs made Blair's stomach roil but the jumbled garments held unknown treasures. An elaborate silk gown drew her attention and her heart leaped when she saw the yellowing label.

"Dan, come here. Look, it's Worth."

"Worth what?"

"Worth, you complete philistine. The house of Worth?"

His look of bewilderment made her smile. The net on the watered silk gown had started to disintegrate but the fine stitching and the colours were as perfect as the day it had been made. A pile of finely pleated crepe de chine underneath it caught her eye.

"And this is a Fortuny Delphos gown. It has to be, though there's no label, the pleating is impossible to replicate. My mother has a collection of Fortuny gowns that are so outdated and so terribly unflattering, but she can't bear to discard them because of their beauty."

"What's this?" Dan held up an enormous steel and lace contraption.

Blair pursed her lips. "Feminine apparel, Humphrey. Use your imagination."

"Oh." He dropped it like it burnt him. Blair giggled at his blush. The delicate froth of underthings she wore were far removed from the antique foundation garment. She thanked, not for the first time, the changes in fashion that had removed the necessity of wearing such things. Her cheeks warmed at the idea of Dan noting the differences, finding out what truly lay beneath that yellow dress. The thought reminded her of Serena's invitation and the same quiver of nerves went through her. Inviting him to go with her just seemed so suggestive. It was a house party, there'd be company, and her offer could be construed as entirely innocent. But her predatory intentions shocked her into a silence that continued as she completed her purchases.

Dan had to take her arm on the street to regain her attention. "You've gone silent. Is the memory of that spangled green taffeta we saw still making you queasy?"

He gave her a probing look. She had to laugh he looked so absurd. Even Dan's capable arms couldn't quite manage the pile of packages she'd acquired. It was hard not to steal a kiss while his hands were thus occupied, his unruly hair escaping over his brow giving him such a boyish air. She submitted to her compulsion, pushing up onto her toes and brushing her lips quickly over his.

A grin creased the solemnity from his face. "That's not playing fair."

"You'll just have to raise the stakes."

His smile grew wider. "Is that a challenge?" Blair gave a nod as Dan opened his arms, letting the paper wrapped packages tumble to the pavement and his hands slip around her waist.

"Dan, we're in public!" Still, she didn't untangle his arms from her.

"You started it."

"You never know who might be looking. It wasn't an invitation."

"Oh no?" He took her chin in his fingers and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Fine, so be it. I imagine you must have so many acquaintances amongst the shop girls of the fabric district that the shame of letting a man kiss you in the street couldn't be lived down." He released her and bent to pick up the fallen parcels. "So what now? Can we stop for a spell? I'm famished."

That he could go from nearly kissing her to talking about food, with only moments between, was beyond belief. Blair readjusted her hat, feeling ruffled. "No. I have to go home."

"I'll buy you a soda?"

She gave him a withering look. "You can come with me. Dorota will make you a sandwich."

"You have to do more work? Waldorf, can't you just slack off for a few hours now? I thought we could see a movie."

"I know, I'm sick of it myself. But I'm so nearly done."

"Can I see them at least?"

"I guess so. If you bring your most critical eye. You'll be the first, except of course Dorota, who doesn't count."

It was fairly easy to persuade him that there were too many line changes and inconveniences to catch the trolley back to 5th Avenue. His protestations ceased when she informed him that he'd get no help from her in managing the transport of her purchases. The cab ride was blissfully swift although Blair couldn't understand why she found it harder to take Dan's hand under the curious gaze of the driver than it was on a public car.

Blair let herself take his hand to lead him up the stairs to her study instead, once he had released his armload to the waiting Vanya at the door of the penthouse. She laid out the renderings over her desk, her fingers a little hesitant. "I still have to complete some details and I don't like the flounce on Gwendolen's train. I'll re-do it if I have time. I can't see how though when I still have the men to complete. And I haven't done all the colouring. Watercolours are so laborious. And now I have that Worth gown I want to completely change some of Lady Bracknell." She stopped to take breath and looked over at his downcast profile, trying to read his expression.

Dan's eyes scanned over the images. "These are beautiful, Blair. Exceptional even."

"You don't need to bury me in superlatives. I need critical feedback."

He ignored her words, glancing up to hold her gaze. "You know, I kind of want to see these come to life. I can just see Cecily simpering in that pink gown."

"I confess I would like to see them realised as well. But it's beside the point. They have a higher purpose, Humphrey."

"But you've put so much work and thought into all of this."

"It wasn't that hard and I suppose you might have helped me."

"Not really. I was just your Man Friday. This is all yours. You've captured so much of the wit and symbolism of Wilde's dialogue." Blair shrugged a little, feeling uncharacteristically bashful under the fulsome praise. He turned to her, his dark eyes capturing her own. "You are remarkable, Waldorf. You make me think of that part in _Pride and Prejudice _about the virtues of a properly accomplished woman when Elizabeth tells Darcy she wonders at him knowing any. Well, clearly you are that proverbial woman."

Blair giggled, leaning into him. "Dan, be serious."

He slipped his arm around her waist. "It's true, you draw and converse, play piano and speak languages, and dance. What don't you do?"

"I can't sing."

Dan's dark eyes swam closer. "I'm sure that's an exaggeration. I'd still find you entertaining."

"I beg to differ." She lifted her hand, gently grasping his lapel. "I thought you were the type to prefer Lizzie Bennet. And not care for accomplishments."

He kept his lips to her ear. "Oh no, you must have me confused with someone else. It's Miss Bingley for me." She turned her head and his laughing mouth was so near she had to stop it with her own.

_xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox_

Dan hadn't told Blair about his interview on the Friday morning at the New York Daily News. At least he didn't plan to until he found out that the job was his. Perhaps if it had been for a writing position he would have been more forthcoming but the role of copy boy was nothing to brag about. Neither was the wage. Only a year before the $15 a week would have felt like riches but now he could watch his friends blow as much as that on a round of drinks. But it was something. He didn't see his dry spell of publication coming to an end in the near future and any income at all was something to be grateful for. The hours were something else altogether. Managing his time would be a struggle and Blair and Nate would both definitely have an opinion on his reduced availability. But if he saved and kept submitting articles for publication, surely he would have enough to move in with Nate by August. And if he was promoted to reporter then all the better. It would leave little time for more creative pursuits but he had managed that before, only then he hadn't had the attractions of Blair to divert him.

It was the first of the month so after his interview Dan went to the bank to collect the stipend the scholarship gave him to cover sundry expenses at college. The sum was pitifully small but the promise of his forthcoming wages meant he could be a little reckless. The stationers he had visited with Blair was near so he visited the premises to buy a new notebook, matching the cover to the leather of the diary she had given him. The book had a specific purpose; he had started writing something more ambitious. Revisiting the first words he had ever written about Blair had started a narrative in his head that wouldn't cease. He had to write it out, even though it would be unpublishable, far too close to the themes of Fitzgerald to be taken seriously by anyone. But, nonetheless, the words would come and he had to put them somewhere.

It was certainly safer than leaving them in random novels in Blair's library. He hadn't expected her to find the poem so fast, but he should have remembered exactly whom he was dealing with. It still made him flush with embarrassment when he thought of it. The words seemed even more banal in his memory. She had said so little. It had seemed to please her but the fact she didn't mention it again half troubled him and half relieved him. He should have made a copy so at least he could revisit it, to see if it was as painfully obvious as he recollected.

He still had hours before he was to meet Blair after her design presentation so he settled in the library, filling the time by writing a long overdue reply to his father's last letter. Reading over Rufus' words made a pang of guilt settle over him, his preoccupation had left him little time to think about his family and his father's loneliness was evident. He replied at length, trying to assuage his guilt, detailing his new job, his minor successes with his course work at Columbia and his assistance with Nate's party. He even mentioned Blair briefly, being unable to deny her a small place in his missive when she took up such a large part of his life in New York. _I'm assisting an Upper East Side socialite with designs for a play and she delights in tormenting me. It takes up far to much time to be comfortable but it's more entertaining than I could have possibly imagined. _He could have written much more but he knew that even those few words would pique Rufus' interest so that his next letter would be filled with uncomfortable questions. He finished with the particulars of his visit over the Easter weekend, planning to catch the train to see his father and Jenny on her break from boarding school.

How long it took to present designs Dan couldn't guess so at three o'clock, the time they were engaged to meet, he left the library to await her. He took a quick detour to the post office before making his way to the theatre, finding a bench to perch on in the sun and occupied his time acquainting himself with his new notebook.

A pair of warm fingers over his eyes made him jump. He looked up to see her beneath the close brim of her cloche. "Sorry if I kept you waiting. It seemed to take forever." She smiled, keeping her hand on his shoulder as she walked around the bench to take a seat beside him.

He closed the book from her inquisitive eyes. "How'd it go?"

"Fine, I think. They did wonder at the expense of it all, but I assured them that was the least of their concerns." Her voice grew silky. "Vanessa seemed annoyed that she didn't get to see them before the presentation. Apparently the director gets final approval but the board's reaction was so positive it was hard for her to criticise me without looking difficult. It was all rather entertaining." Her smug satisfaction was so evident she was almost purring.

He had to smile back at her. "I'm pleased you found it so diverting. Can you leave off for a while then and let me walk you home through the park?"

"That I can. I can even spare the time to look at the crocuses." She looked up at him beneath her lashes. "Although, it is the first day of spring, Humphrey, I'd prefer to see jonquils."

He took her hand and slipped it into his own, their steps falling into a slow rhythm, quiet until they reached the shade of the trees ringing the park. It was filled with people; the sunny day had seemingly enticing any available resident of New York into its green confines.

She looked up at him, her nose crinkling. "Sorry to talk business but now I've presented the designs we have to work out the next stage of the plan."

"You still want to go through with that, huh?"

"What do you mean? There's no question." She raised her brow. "I still think my original plan is best, I mean, to bribe the shop not to complete the costumes."

"Won't that make Vanessa suspicious?"

"I don't see how. I'll make sure there's no way they can trace it to me."

"So you'll let the costume shop take the fall?"

Blair pouted at him. "I only want to destroy Vanessa, nobody else. I'll make it worth their while. What other options are there?"

"People could lose their jobs, Blair. I don't think they'd even agree, what's a bribe when you've lost your livelihood? There has to be a way to make it blameless. I think you should let the costume shop build the costumes, at least until you know where their loyalties lie. If they exposed you, Vanessa would win without even lifting a finger. Surely between us we can think of something else?"

Blair fell silent, musing over his opinions. "You have a point. It's likely Barnard would expel me for sure if they found out. I wouldn't even get another opportunity to get her back. It would be impossible from Paris." She rolled her eyes at him but the sudden rigidity of her frame betrayed her tension.

"Why do you say Paris?"

"It's a bit far away for vengeance, Humphrey. Although I could try."

"No, I mean why would you be there?"

"My mother threatened to send me back to Paris if there's any more trouble. After I got kicked out of Hewitt, she keeps me on a very short leash, as short as she can from France anyway. She requires that I not get involved in scandal, maintain good grades and display decorative behaviour at all times. And of course, she must receive a letter once a week to confirm the above."

"How can you risk it then?"

"Oh ye of little faith. Surely you think I'm more capable than that?"

The idea of Blair returning to France permanently made him feel as though the ground beneath his feet had turned to quick sand. He hadn't even considered the possibility. Even the idea of her going for the summer was something that he tried not to think about. "But… surely nothing is worth the threat of that?"

"How will she find out? I haven't even told her I'm designing the costumes. You may tell your family everything but I have a little more forethought, Humphrey."

He stopped and faced her taking both her hands in his. "Look Blair, please just let the costume shop build the costumes. You can't take the risk of getting caught. I'll… I'll steal them from the theatre if it comes to it. I'll make Nate help me."

Blair blinked up at him. "Dan, I hate to say this, in fact if you ever mention it again, I'll deny it, but you are genius. If Nate won't help you, Vanya surely will. Why, I'll make him do it. I'll have to start practising my histrionics for when I discover that they're gone." She swung their hands between them, a wheedling tone entering her voice. "So, now that's settled, why don't you take me to dinner to celebrate? I hear the new Delmonico's is quite the bee's knees. Or we could go to the movies. There's a new British talkie at the Capitol by a director named Hitchcock. I'm dying to see it."

Her easy acquiescence and change of subject helped him regain his composure although Blair's upturned lips beneath his required a measure of restraint. "Uh…that sounds perfect, let's do both? It's...uh…it can be a double celebration. I have a new job, as of tomorrow anyway, at the Daily News."

Her smile was the best reward. "Dan, you're a reporter? That is ab-so-lute-ly glorious! We just have to celebrate now."

Dan chose not to correct her. With a bit of persistence and a small amount of luck, he would hopefully be claiming that title very soon. "Not too much celebration. I have to be at work at 8am."

"Pooh! Surely this is more important than a clear head." She slipped her hand back into the crook of his arm and they slowly continued around the lake, pausing every so often to admire the flowers the unusually warm weather had bought forth. "Dan, I… I forgot to mention it before but Serena invited me to the Hampton's for the spring break and she wants to know if you would come too?"

"Isn't that the weekend of Nate's party?"

She nudged her shoulder against him. "And yours. But we could all motor up together the next day."

Dan took a moment to answer; every instinct told him to tell her he would like nothing more. "Blair, I would love to but I can't. I've arranged to go to Hudson and see my Dad and sister. I haven't seen them since Christmas. I just confirmed it in a letter to him today."

"But… really? Can't you see them on another weekend? It could be so divine. We can motor and have picnics and dance and…"

She looked so deflated he wasn't sure how to respond. "I'll be working weekends from now on, and it's the only time I can go when Jenny's home from boarding school. I need to see them."

"Oh… well." She sighed disconsolately. "I guess I'll have to just put up with Serena and Nate, and of course Chuck, without you. Why do you always have to say no to things?"

"Chuck's going too?" The small sense of elation that the invitation had given him, despite the necessity to decline, left him abruptly.

"He's Serena's half brother, she has to invite him, no matter what his reputation. It's ok, S's grandmother and I think maybe her brother will be there too. I suppose I'll take Dorota too if you can't come."

Dorota's presence did little to suppress his concern; her attempts to enforce propriety on the few occasions he had seen had been particularly ineffective. He had to hope that Celia was a more domineering. "I would go, Blair, I just have to go to Hudson. I'm worried about my Dad. He says he's alright but my mother's been in Europe for months and I'm starting to wonder if she's ever going to return."

"I know how that is. My mother and father spend no time together at all. My mother spends her time between London and Paris, all of her energy goes into her label, while my father just goes on jaunts with his best friend Roman. I think his last letter said they were currently travelling down the Nile following Richard Burton's path to the great lakes of Africa. I can't remember when I last saw my parents in the same room together. I'm not sure if they care that much about it though. Why doesn't your father just go to Europe after her if he misses her that much?"

It was hard to tell Blair that although she may give no more thought to booking a liner to Europe than catching the express across town, rather she would give less thought to it, it wasn't so simple for others. "He can't, he…he has teaching commitments and it doesn't sound like my mother's invited him to join her on her tour anyway. I don't even know where she is right now. Somewhere in Tuscany I think."

She looked away from him, her expression a little distant. "I wish you could just invite them to the Hampton's too, although I daresay it…it would cramp our style a little."

"Jenny would adore that. More than I would, that's for certain. I can't just foist my whole family onto Serena's Grandmother."

"I could ask her."

Dan had to choke down his laugh. "No…God, no. Please don't do that, Waldorf."

"Ok, ok, I won't. It's most annoying of you, Humphrey." Blair stopped and turned to him, placing both of her hands on his chest, his own instinctively twining together behind her back. She didn't look him in the eye, instead intently watching the way her fingers walked up his lapel to the collar of his shirt. "Could you…Do you think you might just be able to come up just for one evening? I know it's a lot of travel for you but it's…it's important to me." She looked up at him then, her dark lashes sweeping across her cheek, so lovely that his mouth went dry. "I just really want you to come, that's all."

* * *

><p><strong>AN's I hope the poem wasn't too lame. I singlehandedly blame those 8 lines for the major delays in the last few chapters!**


	13. Chapter 13

**I've been sitting on this a while as I wasn't happy and now I feel like I've kind of lost my perspective. I hope my kind reviewers can give me some critique. I've been writing on my new Ipad (yay to my gorgeous husband) but it's a bit different to write on so I hope there's not too many mistakes or wierd formatting (a proper spellcheck function would be nice Apple?) And I've been home sick with the flu, which is why you get this on a Wednesday. I have at least the next chapter ahead in draft form so I hope to have it up soon.**

**And of course none of the characters are mine. As you are well aware. I just like Dan and Blair so much I want to give them a different life**.

* * *

><p>Blair had spent hours in her mother's studio as a child. When she was bored of perusing the books in the library on the long summer days she'd be home from school, she'd find herself drawn to the bustling rooms. The different rooms of Eleanor's atelier would be filled couturiers, tailors and milliners and Blair would recruit them all in her mission to evade the attentions of Dorota. Sadie the seamstress would always have a sweet for her, Elisabeth would tell her gossip if she would sit and thread needles for her beading, and Bastion the tailor would pinch her cheek and try to kiss her. She never liked the way his whiskers rasped her cheek but his smile would be so jolly.<p>

The house would be empty except for the servants, but she could never seem to escape their watch entirely. Her parents dominating the space despite their absence. Eleanor always unavailable but her taste dictating everything from Blair's breakfast to her bath time and her father's letters and exotic presents sent from whatever far-flung region he had found himself in. The packages were always eagerly awaited but, even more than whatever treasure he had sent her, she would long to go to the big globe in the library and search for the country Harold was in, tracing her fingers across the distance between them. Memories that had been unvisited for years came alive again by Blair's frequent visits to the costume shop. The click of tailor's shears, the murmured conversations and the throb of the sewing machines in the corner.

She paused at the door, taking in the quiet activity of the room, pondering the recollections. How the atmosphere in the studios would change when Eleanor returned. The head couturier would try and whisk Blair from the studio but instead she would hide beneath one of the big cutting tables and observe the room frantically preparing for her mother's entrance. They wanted to please her; Blair would see the pleased smiles for just a word of praise and listen to the tears for the reprimands, or worse, the indifference. She would have liked to command that kind of loyalty for herself but all she could count on then was Dorota's.

The costume shop attached to the campus theatre was nothing like the light filled rooms that housed Eleanor's atelier. It was tiny, with only skylights for ventilation, every wall stacked with bolts of fabric and racks of half made garments. But she found she had got over her distaste, it surprised her how much she liked the busy sense of purpose in the room.

Blair had assumed that once the designs were presented that her role as designer was mostly complete, but she realised her mistake almost immediately. She was instead required to go to production meetings, attend fittings and find everything from hand painted French silk flowers to the seed pearls that decorated Gwendolen's train. That duty had mostly fallen to Dorota, but still, Blair would rush home eagerly from class to look over whatever treasure her faithful handmaiden had uncovered in the haberdashers and flea markets of the garment district.

Amelia, the wardrobe mistress was a plump matron with a bite. She looked like somebody's beloved grandmother but she ruled the workshop with a fist of steel. More than once Blair had seen an actress burst into tears for expressing her opinion on her costume, or a machinist sobbing as she unpicked less than satisfactory work. For the first time she had met someone who had less concern over expressing her true thoughts than herself. It was a novel feeling being the more sympathetic soul in an interaction.

The one thing Blair and Amelia could agree on was that neither of them would encourage any further visits to the costume shop from Vanessa. To Blair's chagrin, the tedious sophomore had appeared at the toile fittings, giving her opinion freely on every garment. Her ideas were so tasteless that Blair had to assume that she was deliberately trying to make the costumes look awful. The girl dressed so poorly though, it was entirely possible that her ideas were genuine.

She didn't appear at all that day to Blair's great relief. The afternoon had passed swiftly, the costumes proceeding to her exact specifications and Vanessa's absence meant she could enjoy several satisfactory battles of will with Amelia in peace. The collection of ornate costumes required complete focus and she was always astonished by the sense of exhaustion she would leave with.

It was dark by the time she finally left the theatre. She had been itching to go for the past hour, knowing that Dan was at the library. It gave her a glow of pleasure, picturing him him waiting for her, although the last thing she felt like doing was settling to study. She would like to throw it to the wind and make him take her to the pictures or dancing or anything that took their fancy. But the idea of a few comfortable hours sharing a book with he that she liked best held its own attractions.

Her contentment increased as she walked up the grand steps to the library; Blair would never tire of its soaring beauty. Every time she entered the reading room in the rotunda she would feel the same thrill. Dan was at their usual desk, despite the crowded room, and she noted with amusement he was in the midst of furious whispered argument with a thickset junior. Both their hands were gripped on the chair next to Dan and a man was looking at him with aggression, voice raised above the requisite library standard. "I'm taking this goddamn chair. You've been holding it for hours."

Blair could hear Dan's hissed reply across the room. "No, I told you before, you're not taking it. Someone's sitting there."

She smirked and sauntered toward the desk, laying her gloved hand over the back of the chair. "And that would be I. Please gentleman don't fight over the honour of who gets to draw it out for me." The junior gave a disagreeable scowl but Dan's welcoming smile was exactly as she imagined it.

"You're just in time. I've spent more time defending this chair than actually studying."

She felt her own lips curl into a pleased curve, all thoughts of the junior forgotten. Her chest grew tight at the way he looked up at her. If only they weren't quite so public it would be the simplest thing to drop a kiss to his face. She settled for running her fingers fleetingly over the curve of his jaw as she sat in the chair, turning her lips close to his ear. "You could have let him take it. Then I could have just sat in your lap."

It was amusing to watch Dan blush at such close range, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed in discomfort. "Uh...Blair...I don't..." His voice trailed off and eyes tracked down to her lips, head tilting as he regarded her.

She looked down at the desk then back up through her lashes, in the most merciless fashion she could muster. "Cat got your tongue?"

Dan's eyes flashed and he turned his head so his lips were scarce inches from hers. She had to give him credit for how quickly he could regroup. "I should be so lucky." It was her turn to blush and she lowered her head to the books she had placed before her, opening the closest, it didn't matter which, they all needed attention.

She'd hardly progressed through a page the chapter of the art history text she was meant to be reading before she started shooting glances at him. It was difficult to get any serious study done in particular company. Dan seemed immune to the affliction. His eyes were fixed on the page before him, pen flowing down it unchecked. She felt a pang of vexation at his apparent absorption. "Dan?"

"Hmmmm?" He had hardly heard her.

"Humphrey?" She wasn't quite sure how it had happened but Blair found her hand had wrapped around Dan's tie. "I need you to help me find a reference."  
>The action certainly got his attention. "Huh?" He leaned away a little and the tie in Blair's hand grew taut against his neck. "I do, do I?" She bit her lip and nodded. This was a game she liked. "All my chivalry for nothing when someone takes our desk?"<p>

"Oh, I doubt it will be for nothing." She looked at him steadily, letting the tie slide through her fingers as she stood up and turned away. The look she threw back over her shoulder at him was all invitation. Dan leaned back in his chair looking as though someone had poleaxed him. She giggled and moved faster, heading to the stairwell in the room beyond. He would have to scramble if he was going to catch up with her.

A hand crept into hers just as she reached the second floor and she let the fingers entwine with hers. The touch of his thumb skipping over her knuckles made her tighten her grip, almost tugging him through corridors of books. The room she sought was unattended and, as it had no reading desks, was usually bare of company saving the occasional cartographer. She lead him down a deserted row of labelled cabinets to where a secluded alcove lay. The smell of old vellum and dust permeated the air.

"I didn't even know this room was here."

She leant back against the wall, with what she hoped was her most alluring smile on her face. "As you're entirely unobservant that doesn't surprise me."

Dan looked around the room. "I couldn't have guessed that old maps were a passion of yours, Waldorf." She lifted her lips invitingly but the kiss he dropped was far too brief.

"One never knows where one might find treasure."

Dan smiled but didn't yet lean down to kiss her again, his eyes just traced slowly over her face. He lifted his hands and she though he was going to take her shoulders and pull her to him but instead he just carefully lifted her hat from her head and placed it on the cabinet beside them. She made a noise of frustration, tempted to slip away and make him give chase but the hands resting each side of her and the musky scent of him, made her legs refuse to move. The feel of his hand sliding up her neck and into her hair made her eyes flutter closed. "Beautiful isn't a good enough word for you. I don't whether I prefer kissing you or looking at you. It's a dilemma that torments most of my waking moments."

The next kiss he gave her wasn't perfunctory nor was it distracted. She wasn't sure if she was breathless from his words or from his lips, but dizziness overtook her entirely. She knew how brief the moment could be. They had both learned to make sure it was wrung of it's worth. His arms tightened about her and she relaxed into them, bemused by how quickly the tables had turned and all her wiles had fled her.

Dan's hands ran down her back, holding her against the welcome planes of his body. The expanse of his palm sliding against the silk of her blouse and his mouth so hot and open against hers. She let her fingers explore under his jacket, the firm warmth inviting her to explore further, wandering over the back of his thigh, nudging his leg between her own. The move had the desired effect. Dan bent his knees, letting his hands slide over her hips in an effort to pull her closer, trapping her leg over his so she was braced against him and not the wall behind her.

The fervour of their movements slowed and Blair had to stifle a gasp as his lips left hers, marking a torturous path down her neck. She couldn't help the wanton pulse that her hips gave, tucking her leg further around his thigh and letting him take more of her weight. It wrung a groan from him, sending a thrill through her, even as she lifted his head back to hers to silence him with her lips. She couldn't keep him there for nearly long enough though, he tugged mouth away, breath ragged against her skin. "Jesus Christ, Blair...this is dangerous."

"That's what makes it fun."

"I don't mean…" He fell silent again as her lips found the pulse at the corner of his jaw. Flicking her tongue to taste him. She wondered why she hadn't tried it before, why it felt just as good to give kisses there as it did to receive them. The quiver she felt nearly overwhelmed her and she pulled back slightly to catch her breath.

"I wish we could go somewhere…where we could be alone together...properly alone." It surprised Blair how prim her words could sound when she was so compromisingly entwined with a body. Dan didn't reply, even though it didn't seem possible that he couldn't infer the subtleties of her words. She pushed on, determined to make sure he understood her intent, to be blatant if need be. She ran her fingernails down over his jaw, lifting her eyes to his. The were so dark she could think they'd turned black. "I would really like to be...be private with you." And if her words weren't direct enough, she let her hands continue around to tighten on the back of his neck and kissed him deeply, her lips opening to draw him back in.

He returned the kiss but he wouldn't let her reignite the passion of the previous moments, instead withdrawing to give her a searching look. Silence wasn't quite the reaction she had expected. She continued haltingly. Damn her blushing cheeks and damn him for making her say the words aloud. "If...if you can't come to the Hampton's then I think we should..."

Dan released his arms from her waist, although they didn't move far, only straying up to her neck to brush his thumbs over her cheeks. "Stop, Blair, I know what you're asking me. I just…you need to think about this. I..."

"Believe me, I've thought about it more than I care to."

His expression became pained. "I wouldn't want you to... regret me."  
>She lowered her head at his words, feeling the need to hide her flush. "What should I regret?" It was so difficult to be direct and say exactly what she wanted to. That his kisses were sweet but they weren't enough, that she was always left wanted more. "It's not a big deal."<p>

She peeked back up at him, trying to read his reaction. Never before had she seen Dan look so uncomfortable. "It is, at least to me. I think you'd be making a mistake."

The conversation wasn't going at all at way she hoped. Her chest felt hollow although she couldn't define the emotion behind it. She pushed him away, breaking their contact. "You don't know how hard that was for me to ask and all you can say is that it would be a mistake?"

"I didn't mean it like that. Blair, I'm flattered that you'd think of me like that but…but you are too generous."

She did know what the emotion was. It was shame. Serena had made it sound so easy and yet here she was, rejected in the most round about way. "I have to go." She slipped out from under his arm but he caught her hand before she could leave.

"Stop, Blair, don't leave like this. I can't just keep taking from you."

"Do you think I go around anyone to...sleep with me?" She finally managed the words. "You're a fool, Daniel Humphrey and I really have to go now." She could feel tears begin to prick her eyes and tugged her hand from his. "I'll see you around." His expression of bewilderment stung but she was so hot with embarrassment she had to get out of the confined space.

"Blair, wait…" The curious head of a library attendant appeared at the door but she pushed past her, head down trying to stop the tears that threatened to spill.  
>As Dan had predicted someone had claimed their desk, piling her books and bag ingloriously in a jumble on the floor. If she had felt at all capable she would have served the impertinent freshman a dose of her finest but instead she collected her belongings as they lay and rushed from the room.<p>

_xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo_

Dan had carried a hard knot of anxiety everywhere with him since his conversation with Blair at the library. He couldn't stop thinking of what she had asked him and how he had frozen, half inclined to take her up on her offer then and there and half way to bolting in fear.

The fear had won, making it so impossible to express himself that he had behaved like the dullest fool to have ever walked the earth. He had made too much of it, gauche and insensitive. But he had meant it, he knew she would regret giving him too much of herself. It didn't matter how much she may think she wanted him now, her interest would wear thin.

He didn't want to find himself so invested in Blair that when she inevitably found the lord or the scion of industry that she so richly deserved to marry, he'd be left in a maze of his own making, so convoluted that he'd never find his way out. It was probably already too late. And the way she had run from him, in anger or hurt, he couldn't guess. It was the first time in weeks that he didn't have an engagement or an assignation with her to look forward to and the thought left him floundering.

It was for the best and worst that he was so busy. Without seeing Blair, it felt as though his life had been limited to only two things, working and studying around the clock. He was used to the study but the constant work took a little to get used to. His schedule was so erratic it was difficult to manage the daily necessities of eating, bathing and sleeping, let alone waiting in one of Blair's usual haunts in the hope of catching her. His morning routine had been reduced to dousing his head in cold water to clear the late night cobwebs and grabbing a pretzel or a donut from a street vendor as he raced to class or the library or the offices of the Daily News. The work at the offices was so unchallenging. So often his fingers would itch to rewrite the hackneyed prose he would carry from the newsroom to the printing press. He knew better than to interfere though, the hierarchy of the newsroom was so strictly controlled that it wouldn't matter how good his work was, he'd be fired before he even had a chance to defend himself.

But the evenings were the worst. Despite his exhaustion, his mind would spring awake as soon as his head touched his pillow. He would lie there, grimly determined to sleep until he gave into the plots and thoughts he couldn't indulge during the day and would flick on his lamp to write them out. More often than not he would wake with his head slumped over his notebook, the lamp still glowing dimly in the morning light.

To add insult to injury, he had contracted a nasty flu. He could hear Blair's voice telling him she told him so. That public transport was a bastion of disease and vermin. He had to admit she was right. The entire population of commuters seemed to be sneezing and coughing and only a small percentage had handkerchiefs to mask it with.

He had arrived at the offices early, feeling miserable in body and soul. The ten minutes he had to spare should have been used to finish his slim breakfast but instead he just sat and rested his aching head in his hands, trying to think through how to approach Blair and re-establish at least the easy familiarity of their relationship.

"Mr Humphrey?"

Dan looked up to see the arts editor eyeing him. He stood up, straightening his jacket and trying to look alert. "Sir?"

"I know you think being a copy boy is beneath you, Mr Humphrey, but you could look a little more lively."

"Excuse me?"

"Just because you've been published in Vanity Fair doesn't make you a writer."

Dan tried unsuccessfully to subdue the twinge of irritation that threatened to overtake him. The editor seemed to take it as a personal affront that a copyboy had managed to be published in the magazine. "No to be a writer, you have to be able to write. It doesn't matter what you do in your day job."

"I find your arrogance a little presumptuous, Humphrey."

He took a breath. It was the first time the arts editor had spoken to him and he was desperate to make an impression, to try and find a way out of the grinding duties he currently had to fulfil. "I didn't mean to be rude. But I know I could write better copy than some of the tripe coming from your writers."

The editor looked at him speculatively. "I'm only doing this because there's no one else here. Half the office seems to be down with this damned influenza. I've read some of your work and it's clear at least that you can spell so, if you want an opportunity, I need you to review this by tomorrow." He passed Dan a small yellow envelope. "I expect it to be on my desk by 8am tomorrow."

The thrill that swept through Dan was enough to allay his headache, at least temporarily. "I won't let you down, sir. I can't thank you enough for the opportunity."

"I'm not sure you'll be thanking me when you see what it is. But your review better be publishable, you won't get another chance like this." The man left with out a further word leaving Dan to open the envelope, hoping for a movie or show he at least knew something about. It was for the evening performance of Martha Graham's newest work of modern dance. Of all possible things. He had to smother the groan that made its way to his lips. He had never followed dance; classical or modern, neither held any appeal for him. There were however two tickets in the envelope. Dan's thoughts immediately went to Blair, she was sure to at least know something about Graham. He hadn't yet broached a topic with her that she had failed to express an opinion on.

There was no more time to think on it, the clock was on the hour and, with the amount of absent employees, the day would run him ragged. He felt progressively worse as the day dragged on, the cold settling in his chest in the most uncomfortable way and his head taking turns in feeling like it was about to float off his shoulders or it was filled with molten lead. By the time his shift ended all he wanted to do was go home and tumble into bed.

He stopped Blair's apartment on the way back to campus. She wasn't there but Dorota suggested he leave a note. It took him far too long to pen it, making three attempts in the hope of finding a balance between contrite, casual and amusing. And the longer he stayed, the more likely it was that she would come through the door. It would be bliss just to be able to rest his tired eyes on her, even if she wished to avoid him. After 20 minutes of procrastinating the exasperated Dorota pushed him out of the door, promising in her broken english to give his message to Blair.

He reviewed the words in his mind as he waited at his tram stop.

_Blair, _

_I was hoping to see you in person but alas no luck for me. I know I don't deserve it but will you have mercy on me and let me escort you to the theatre tonight? I know it's late notice but I have to write a review for Martha Graham's work at the Booth and I know nothing about modern dance, not even enough to write a sentence. I need your help. (Surely you can read the desperation in my words! Please come!)_

_I have to go and dress, but I live in hope that you'll be waiting for me in your glad rags when I return at 7. If you're not, I guess I'll have no option but to take Dorota. _

_Yours,_

_D H _

He had hesitated over referring to their discussion at the library, hoping that casual friendliness would be enough to win her over. Not knowing how to word the regret he felt, he kept it as breezy and as light as he could.

It didn't take him long to dress when he got back to his rooms but he looked at himself with misgiving in his small mirror. His tie was straight and his hair in controlled waves but he still felt derelict. The dark circles under his eyes and the spots of hectic colour on his cheeks added nothing to the whole effect. His lumpy pillow had never looked so inviting and it was a struggle not just lay down for a moment to close his eyes. But as important as completing the review was, it was secondary to the hope he held that Blair would be waiting for him.

Time had run so short that he had to hail a cab to take him to Blair's apartment, tipping the driver to make him wait for his return. Dorota met him at the door, exactly as she had less than a few hours before. But now she greeted him with a certain twinkle in her eye.

"Dorota, is she here?"  
>"Good evening, Mr Dan. Miss Blair is just…" "Dorota!" Blair's voice echoed stridently down the staircase. "Where have you put my silver purse? It's not where it should be."<p>

"Excuse me, I just go…help, Miss Blair. She getting ready."

"Uh...for me?"

"Nobody else here, Mr Dan." Dorota's lips twitched before she turned her plump form and hurried up the stairs, leaving him to wait in the foyer. It was only moments before Blair appeared on the landing, giving him a shy smile as she descended slowly toward him. His own mouth stretched into a return grin as he realised there was no hint of anger or disappointment in her eyes, only the most candid of welcomes.

"You didn't give me anytime to get ready. I'm absolutely haggard." Her statement couldn't have been further from the truth. The blue silk of her dress reflected against the sleek curls in her hair and the silver of her shoes. Large sapphire drops swung in her ears tempting his eyes to follow the white column of her neck to her exposed collarbone.

"You're beautiful and I've been wretched."

She leant against the staircase, looking roguishly across at him. "Well, are you going to come here and kiss me hello? I made sure that Dorota would be looking for that purse for at least a little while."

The feverish heat rising through him made his head go light. Her manner was so different to what he'd expected. "You look so kissable. I confess though, I…uh…I've caught a chill and you probably shouldn't want to be kissing me right now. As regrettable as that is…I mean, as regrettable as I find…that." Dan cursed his lack of coherency. She was looking at him with such intensity it was difficult to hold a thought.

Blair's eyes narrowed and she dropped her languid pose, stalking over to him. "Humphrey how could you? I forgive you for behaving so boorishly the other day but this is the very end."

"I couldn't exactly help it."

"Of course you could. I knew you'd contract some kind of horror travelling around in those abhorrent things, working yourself to the bone. It's so unnecessary." She peered more closely at his face. "And you look dreadful."

He lifted his hand to brush her hair from her cheek. "I thought you'd become accustomed to that?"

"To your general dishevelment, yes. You don't usually look so cadaverous." She laid her hand against his forehead. Her fingers felt cool against his feverish skin. "You're burning up. As glad as I am to see you, shouldn't you be in bed?"

He shook his head and lifted her hand away from his brow, retaining her fingers in his own. "I'll be fine." He felt anything but, however that was the last thing he wanted to tell Blair after not seeing her for a long five days.

Blair's expression grew more stubborn. "You should listen to me and go home, or at least stay in with me and let Dorota look after you."

Dan closed his eyes to the blissful image her words bought to mind and gave a groan. "Don't tempt me, you witch. It's the first chance I've had with the arts editor and I have to impress him. Are you coming with me or not? Come on please, Waldorf, don't make me take Dorota."

"Pleading with me now, Humphrey?" She reached up, straightening his tie and then smoothing her hands over his shoulders. "Have you ever seen Martha Graham before?"

"No, my entire exposure to dance has been Jenny's school dance recitals and that's not an experience I'm in a hurry to repeat." "I used to have to take classes at Isadora Duncan's school in Paris when I was a child, but there was only so much feeling the music and trailing scarves around that I could cope with. But Graham is quite something."

Her smile tempted him to discard his reservations and kiss her, influenza or not but the sound of Dorota's footsteps on the stairs made him pause.

Blair stepped away from Dan and collected her coat and purse from her companions arms. "You're a bloodhound, Dorota. Don't wait up for me."

He took her hand on the way out of the door. "I'm sorry for being such a boor. You are a great deal too good to me."

"I'm glad you recognise that." She chewed at her lip, refusing to meet his eye.

Dan lead her to the elevator, drawing the ornate cage across before he turned to take her other hand. She kept her eyes lowered but he could see the flush creeping hotly across her cheeks.

"Blair, please look at me." She didn't oblige, instead dropping her head further. "I...I don't want you to rush into anything blindly. Believe me...I...if you think it's that I don't...I'm not..." Dan cursed his halting speech. "I'm just happy to be with you anyway I can, for as long as I can. But I won't keep taking from you. You...you can't be so generous with me when I can't reciprocate the way I want to." He tightened his grasp on her fingers, tugging her so she moved a step closer. "And this is nice enough, isn't it? It's more than I ever expected from you. I think I'm the luckiest man in New York."

She finally looked up, her lip puckering with something between amusement and affection. "You are lucky, Humphrey, you get me and Martha Graham in the one evening."

The elevator finally came to a halt but before Dan could open the gate, Blair stepped forward and wrapped her hands around his waist, burying her head in his chest. "You give me enough, Dan. More than you know." He let his hands creep around her shoulders, pressing her closer while he rested his head atop of hers. Blair seemed as unwilling as Dan was to break the embrace but she eventually pulled away, glancing pertly up at him. "Just don't give me whatever disease it is you've managed to contract."

Dan chuckled, letting her lead him from the elevator car. "If I do, I doubt it'll be my fault."

The performance was more enjoyable than Dan had expected, finding the three different acts powerful and compelling. He thought he understood enough to at least write something about it and the program notes gave him enough about Graham's history to not look completely ignorant. But despite his aching body, he didn't want to end the evening just yet."So, if I buy you supper, will you give me your thoughts?"

"Oh, my thoughts are worth more than that." She smiled up at him. "But you can owe me." The small bistro they went to was crowded with theatre patrons but they were directed to a secluded booth. Dan had entirely lost his appetite so he only ordered a coffee, while Blair ordered a strawberry ice.

Her insight, as always, clarified his thoughts. "I should be taking notes." Dan reached into his breast pocket, retrieving a small notebook and pencil. "I have to finish writing this tonight."

They talked further as Blair toyed her ice cream, conversation straying from the performance to more intimate stuff. Dan's coffee sat mostly untouched, the black liquid uncomfortable in his empty stomach. His watch showed him it was later than it should have been. Blair seemed more than willing to wander the streets home with him but the pressure of time made him hail a cab, directing it to her address.

"Are you coming up?"

Dan paid the driver, taking Blair's arm as they stood on the quiet street. "I'll see you inside. But I have to get home and write this damned thing."

"But it's not even 11 o'clock, Dan, not even close. Stay for a nightcap?" The doorman nodded at them as he opened the door and Dan escorted her to the waiting elevator.  
>"I thought you wanted me to go to bed?"<p>

"Don't throw my words back at me. You can kiss me you know."

"What happened to the containment of disease?"

"Waldorf's don't get sick. Unless it's convenient."

Dan laughed. "Good things come to those who wait." He took her hand, stepping back to drink her in, imprint her on his mind before he could see her again. "So can I take you dancing next Friday?"

"That's nearly a week from now, Humphrey. Surely we can do better than that. Meet me on Tuesday at the theatre? I should be free by four. If you're really the luckiest man in New York, you can take me to a movie."

Dan lifted her hand to his lips, dropping a kiss to her gloved knuckles. "Until then, Waldorf."

It had started to drizzle by the time he reached the street again. Dan wished wished he'd tipped the cab to wait as the streets were empty of any others and the trams had stopped for the night. He hunched into his collar, pulling his hat lower over his brow to keep the worst of the rain off but it still managed to seep down his neck. He spent the walk trying to plan out his review, trying to force thoughts of Blair from his mind. It at least made his feet eat up the miles. His hat and coat were thoroughly wet through when he reached his residence so he hung them and pulled a rug over his lap as he sat at his desk, trying to rid himself of the chill that had settled in his bones.

He eventually found a rhythm to his writing, the copy coming cleanly and succinctly. Or so he hoped. It was difficult to judge when he couldn't seem to warm his fingers and his clothes clung damply to his skin. His chest was tight and his eyes began to droop closed. The page seemed to recede from him, swimming before his eyes; he couldn't even tell anymore if the words were coherent, he just hoped they would do. The moment he knew he had written enough, Dan threw down his pen and crawled into his bed, jacket and all, to snatch a few hours sleep before he had to rise.

He woke to the alarm screaming in his face. Gritty, under slept and feeling like someone had been beating him with sticks. It was possible he would feel better once he was up but it was unlikely he could work that day. All he needed to do was get to the offices, deliver the review and then come back to bed.

Dan felt at odds with his body, as if he was watching himself from a distance. He realised with dismay he'd slept in the tuxedo Nate had gifted him. The suit was already beginning to look tired from its frequent use and it could ill afford the abuse. He discarded it over the chair, having neither the energy nor the will to hang it up when it had to be laundered anyway. Changing into his work clothes and trying to plot the fastest route across town with his thick brain. The small room was a mess by the time he'd finished but he looked a little better, at least, the sleep was gone from his eyes and he'd unearthed a clean shirt.  
>The journey across town was a torturous negotiation of pushy early morning commuters. Dan thought he had never been so thankful to see anything than the Daily News building coming into view. Once the review was on the editor's desk he would hail a cab and make it take him all the way home to his blessed bed. The staircase had never been such a struggle, making his chest heave and his head swim as he gasped for breath.<p>

Dan kept his head low but his eye open for his supervisor to tell him that he couldn't work his shift. The lightheaded feeling that had been tormenting him increased triple fold and Dan almost staggered. The arts editor wasn't at his desk, it wasn't yet eight so Dan left his article with his secretary, who was still taking off her coat. She seemed a little taken aback by his incoherency. Suddenly it didn't matter that he needed to see his supervisor or at least wait for the editor.

He can remember stumbling down the stairs that seemed to fall away at his feet and the cool welcome bite of the air outside against his feverish cheeks. The cab pulling up so blessedly swiftly so he could tumble through the door and mutter his address. But after that he doesn't remember anymore.


	14. Chapter 14

**Poor Dan, I really like to put him through the wringer, but he just suffers so beautifully I can't help myself. I hope you enjoy this, I really enjoyed writing it, particularly the scene at the end. Dorota is a lot of fun to write, I just hope I get her speech ok. I look forward to your thoughts as always. **

* * *

><p>The production meeting had finished early and Blair found she had more than half an hour until the time she had scheduled to meet Dan. She found a sunny bench with view of the theatre door to sit upon while she waited and withdrew a copy of the Daily Mail from her bag. It had become her morning routine, browsing through the paper she had Vanya collect for her on his way in. Her breakfast that morning had been so snatched that she hadn't got past the first page so she had taken it with her, to search through for Dan's name. She had to assume that what he had been writing had been so minor that it didn't warrant accreditation as she had yet seen neither sight nor sign of him in it, but finally there it was, his review of Martha Graham. A smile grew on her lips when she recognised direct quotes of her own lifted from the conversation they'd had after the performance. It gave her a flush of pleasure that he had so obviously listened to her, and more still to think of how she could tease him for a cut of his pay.<p>

The rest of the newspaper held little interest for her so after she had read the article through twice she laid it on her lap and closed her eyes, soaking up the bright spring sunshine, enjoying the warmth seeping through her and allowing her mind drift. As always, her thoughts would bend in a certain direction.

It had surprised Blair how quickly she had forgiven Dan. When she had left him in the library that day it hadn't seemed possible that she could recover her self possession and reestablish her sense of confidence with him. The feeling had made her so mournful she had stormed home and locked herself in her room to cry out the frustration and shame. The solitude let her explore her feelings with a little clarity. When she looked hard enough at herself she realised she wasn't angry. There was a sense of hurt and large dose of embarrassment, but her overwhelming response was one of regret.

Talking to Serena had given her more perspective. Blair hadn't thought to lock the door to their adjoining bathroom, despite her determination to isolate herself, and her housemate had come breezily through, entirely unaware of the precarious emotional state Blair was in.

"B! I've just met the most divine man, you must let me tell you about him. He's a..." Her words had trailed off. "B? Why are you lying here in the dark?" Blair had hunched into her coverlet, hoping her friend would think her asleep. The ruse failed to work. "I know you're awake, I saw you pull the pillow further over your head."

"Serena, the last thing I want to hear about is your latest conquest. I was trying to sleep." Blair tried for silky detachment but the break in her voice couldn't be smoothed.

"Blair, how can you go from the absolute apex of happiness you were riding only just this morning at breakfast, to the very depths of despair, you absurd thing?" Serena whipped the pillow from her. "What's wrong?"

Blair rolled over in her bed. "Nothing...everything... I resent you calling me absurd. Leave me alone."

Serena sat on the end of the bed, ignoring Blair's request and instead laid her hand on the back of her blanketed leg. "Blair, I'm not going anywhere until you talk to me."

Blair had sat up then, blinking at the brightness of the lamp Serena switched on. "There's nothing to talk about. I spoke to Dan... I told him I wanted more, that I wanted... why I wanted him to come to The Hampton's and he said he wasn't interested!"

Serena raised one brow. "Is that exactly how he said it?"

"He may as well have."

"Blair, I've told you this before, the man clearly adores you. That doesn't make sense. What were his actual words?"

Blair felt her tears returning with a vengeance and had shaken her head to ward them off. "He said I'd regret it, that he's not comfortable taking anything from me. He made me feel fast, Serena."

"He said that you'd regret it? Not him? Although really, what does a man regret? I think you're are making more of him than you should, darling. It sounds to me like he behaved most gentlemanly. But what would I know?" She had laughed at that. "I don't think I've ever propositioned a gentleman."

"It was so embarrassing, S. I felt like a fool."

"You are only a fool for letting it bother you so much." Serena had lain down beside Blair on the counterpane then, wrapping her arm over her waist, her voice growing uncharacteristically serious. "I confess, B, if I could, I never would have made my first time what it was. I know I said to you it was nothing, but I was drunk and it was the first time anyone had told me they loved me, but then he acted like I didn't exist, bragging to his friends and I was too young to know it wasn't my fault. I felt horrible. If only someone had told me I might regret it." Her arm tucked closer around her. "It wasn't special. It was cheap and uncomfortable and I think I've tried to block it out ever since. I don't want that for you, B."

"I didn't think it would be like that. That Dan would be like that."

"And clearly he's not, B. Give him time. Is he coming to the Hampton's anyway?"

"I doubt it. Not now." The thought had made her bury her head back into her pillow. "Oh, S, what am I to do? I ran out on him!"

"Just leave it. If I'm right, he'll come to you. He won't be able to help himself."

"But what if he doesn't?"

"In the very unlikely chance that he doesn't, well then we'll think of something else."

Blair hadn't been able to even consider pretending nothing amiss had happened, that she could just rise above it and see Dan as usual. She rolled over again, arrested by her friends simplicity. "So what do I do when I see him next, if he does come to me?"

"You be your beautiful, collected, mysterious self and let what will be, be."

"How long do I wait?"

"As long as it takes or as long as you care, whichever comes first. Crying in your room won't get you anywhere. What you need to do is come out with me tonight and we'll look as fabulous as possible and pretend that men don't exist at all. None of them. We won't even talk of them, look at them, acknowledge their existence." And so they had. It had been exactly like old times, or as close as they could possibly get. Blair had never acknowledged to herself before how much she stored things up to tell Dan, filing them away for the next time she saw him. She caught herself a few times in the evening, eyes welling, wondering if she'd get the opportunity again. But Serena wouldn't let her dwell on it, every time she saw the quiver on Blair's lip or a darkening look in her eye, she would whisk her onto the dance floor or literally pour another champagne down her throat.

Despite Blair's lack of faith in her friends ability to have any insight into relationships, she had to admit that Serena had been right on all counts. When she had seen Dan at the foot of her staircase, his heart in his eyes, she had forgiven him entirely.

The day was beginning to grow dim, sunny warmth fading into shadow and Blair shivered, pulling her fur collar up so it framed her chin a little more securely. She checked her watch again; he was more than half an hour late. Every minute she would look up, expecting to see him running across the lawn, apologies in his eyes and on his lips but they was neither sight nor sign of him. It was impossible to believe he had forgotten, but the longer she waited the more her assurance in that thought faded. His residence loomed at her across the south lawn. It would be the simplest thing to stroll across and enquire about him. She tried to rationalise her thoughts; there was no time to go home and send her footman back with a note, Vanya would have left for the day by the time she returned home.

Blair rose from her seat and gathered her courage. It was ridiculous that women weren't allowed to call at the male dorms. The rules were so archaic, did they think they were still living in the 1800's? Her feet purposefully lead her across the lawn until she found herself at the door of his building. "I'd like to speak to Daniel Humphrey. Is he at home?" Her imperious tones made the doorman look at her with surprise.

"Sorry Miss, I don't give out information on our residents."

She smiled, trying for a softer approach, fluttering her lashes alluringly. "You see, it's really very important. I need to ask him..."

The doorman eyed Blair with reservation. She misliked the dismissive glint she saw. "You can leave him a message and I'll see it's put in his pigeonhole."

"I doubt that. Look, I'll make it worth your while." Blair reached into purse, the ten dollars in her pocket book should sway the man to her way of thinking. She held under his nose. "Now, how about you go upstairs and see if he's in?"

"It's a dismissible offence to take bribes, Miss... could you tell me your name, please?" Just her luck that she would try and bribe the only honest doorman in New York.

"It's a simple request. I don't know why you have to be so difficult?"

"There's only one type of woman that comes here demanding to see a resident and we don't encourage that type of caller."

Blair clutched her hands to her sides, all sweetness of manner departing from her. "How dare you? Do you know who I am?"

"No, I don't Miss. But if you could tell me your name, I'd be happy to provide it to the housemaster for you. And if not, please leave the premises before I call campus security to escort you."

A crowd of noisy seniors pushed past her, several of them stopping to give her the eye, one even daring to give a low whistle. "Why, hello there, doll, are you here to see me?"

Her mouth dropped in astonishment, never had she been thus treated. The glare she gave the impertinent man should have withered him entirely but instead he just looked her up and down with a filthy leer twisting his lips. She whipped her head back toward the doorman. "This isn't the last you've heard of this, I demand your name."

"I've asked the same of you, Miss. How about you give me your name and I'll give you mine and then we'll see what the housemaster has to say?"

Blair shot him another furious glare. The group of students stood around her, clearly amused by the altercation they were witnessing, like she was purely there for their express entertainment. "Get out of my way." She didn't wait for the man nearest her to move, instead sweeping past, managing to knock him savagely in the arm with her purse. A collective snigger rose behind her as she stalked off. This was Humphrey's fault, his inattention had caused her to be subjected to such insults. Her rage was such that she was halfway down 116th Street before she realised the day was almost gone and she'd soon find herself alone at night on the streets of New York without an escort. She tugged her coat around her, looking for a cab but every car she saw was full. Blair eyed a tram stop doubtfully. It wasn't possible she'd been reduced to this. But there were no other options, unless she felt inclined to walk the rest of the way. Damn Humphrey, this is not what she'd envisioned when she had planned her day that morning.

If she recalled correctly, the tram number she noted should take her down Park Avenue, leaving only a short stroll to her door. Dan's voice echoed through her head, he thought her unadventurous, well he would find himself mistaken. She filed onto the car, trying to maintain a healthy distance between herself and the other commuters, but the crowd made it nigh on impossible and the jolt as the car started moving made it imperative she hold onto a rail, despite the far too apparent layer of grime that resided there.

"Ticket's please."

Blair froze. She had never noticed how Dan managed this part of their journeys together, for the most part she had luxuriated in burying her face into his broad chest, blocking out all else. She felt like a trapped cat as the conductor made his way towards her.

"Ticket, Miss."

"Uh...I don't have one?"

"Single or return."

"...Single?"

The man held out his hand. "That'll be five cents, please." Blair smiled, it hadn't been so difficult after all. She fished for the ten dollar bill so unceremoniously rejected by the doorman at Hartley Hall. It wasn't where she expected to find it, despite searching frantically in every compartment of her purse. Nor was there anything else in her pocket book. She smiled at the conductor again. "Just a minute." Her groping fingers felt around in the bottom of her purse in vain. She knew there was slim hope of finding anything; Blair hated small change jingling in her bags and Dorota was well aware of it.

"Five cents please, Miss. There's people waiting."

"I'm sorry, you see I can't find my money. I had ten dollars here and it's gone. I... uh." She looked around. No one returned her gaze, though she could have sworn only second before, every passenger in the car had been following her predicament with interest. She wasn't accustomed to being a spectacle and the experience certainly didn't please her.

"You'll have to disembark the car, Miss."

She sniffed and tossed her head. "Of course." The conductor tried to take her arm but Blair shook it off with distaste. She made her way to the car door, the juddering making it difficult to keep her balance and more than once she had to clutch at a commuter to stay upstanding. Dorota was going to have to burn these gloves when she finally got home. Every soul on the trolley was staring at her, she could feel her cheeks flushing with shame. It had never occurred to Blair that she could find herself in a situation such as this. Five cents was the most infinitesimal amount, it was impossible to believe that there was no one to come to her aid and she cursed Dan and the selfishness of the greater population of Manhattan in general. The trolley stopped abruptly and Blair lurched into the body next to hers. Now Dorota would have to burn the coat too. A pity, she had only acquired it the week before.

Her shoe caught on the ramp as she tried to step down from the carriage to the street, the ornate heel shattering from the mistreatment. She clutched frantically behind her for the railing, for anything, but her fingers met with air and she fell instead in an unceremonious heap, half on the sidewalk, half in the gutter beside the tram. The wet mud seeped though her skirt but before she could even make a noise of outrage, hands gripped her arms and yanked her up.

"You're going to get yourself killed." The man gripping her leaned so close she could feel his breath warmly on her face.

"Get your hands off me!" She slapped at the hands and they let go abruptly. Her knee stung at the contact with the paving and she pulled herself up painfully, dismissing the offers of help with a distainful glare.

"You need to take more care, Miss. I saw a man cut clean in half, falling under a tram."

Blair wiped her soiled gloves on her coat, trying to dislodge the worst of the mud. "I don't need to take more care because there is no way in any kind of hell that I will ever be going near one of those degrading cattle cars ever again. This city is supposed to be civilised. I'm not a beast to be herded!"

The man stood back, staring at her. He wasn't the only one, the whole street seemed to be following her outburst. Blair shut her mouth with a snap and turned away as quickly as she could. She finally looked down as she tottered away on her uneven heels. The damage was even worse than she had counselled herself for. The fine ivory wool of her coat was be-splattered with mud, the left side appearing to have been literally dipped in street effluent. A tear ravaged her equally filthy stockings, blood and dirty water dripping down her leg. She reached for her handkerchief in her pocket, to at least wipe her face, and found instead the errant ten dollar bill. Every curse word she had ever heard bubbled on her tongue, directed toward every damned soul she had ever met, but especially Dan, who should be sitting with her in a movie theatre at this very time, not abandoning her to be mocked by all and sundry. Not even the cabs, which had suddenly appeared in multiples, were stopping for her despite her new found riches. One glimpse of her mud soaked clothes and they wouldn't allow her on their upholstery. There was not a good Samaritan in the entire city. She made her way home, her heels making her stagger as though she were drunk, wincing from the pain of her knee at every step. The scowl she gave her doorman when she finally reached her building just dared him to make comment, but he dropped his head, opening the door for her without a word.

Blair knocked furiously at her door when she finally reached it, entirely disinclined to reach into her bag with her filthy gloves to retrieve the key. Dorota's face appeared after what felt like an eternity. "Miss Blair, you very late. I start to worry you... oh Miss Blair... what happen?"

Blair flung her filthy coat to the floor, followed swiftly by the gloves and unfortunate shoes. "Burn those!"

"Your knee!"

"Don't talk to me, Dorota. I smell like a sewer rat and I'm taking a bath and then going to bed and do not want to be disturbed! If I even hear a peep, it will be on your head." Blair stormed up the stairs to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her so hard she could hear the window frames rattling even as she started running the water in her bath. She should be making Dorota fulfil the duty but her temper was so roused she felt unable to even look at another person without venting. She stripped herself of the soiled clothes and allowed the hot water and fragrant oils to wash the worst of the mud from her person but she couldn't stand to soothe herself for long; the ring of filth forming around the bathtub revolted her.

Dorota waited in silently her room when she left the bathroom but she bore Blair's scowl imperturbably. "I not making peep, Miss Blair, I just bring you tea and wish to dress your wound." Blair sniffed but let Dorota minister to her with no comment, ignoring the offered tea and as soon as she was left alone, sunk into her bed, angry tears soaking her pillow.

She awoke to an aching knee and a simmering frustration that the thought of her busy day ahead did nothing to allay. Tossing aside her bedclothes, she made a move to step from her bed but once her leg took her weight, a flame of pain shot through her knee and she collapsed back upon the coverlet.

"Dorota!" That put an end to any plans she had had for the day. "Dorota! Attend to me." She was growing tired of having to scream like a fishwife for her companion.

The door opened to reveal Dorota in her modestly long white nightgown and mussed braids. "Miss Blair, it only 6.30 in the morning."

"Dorota, get me a pen and notepaper, I find my knee is worse and can't move from my bed."

Dorota did as she was bid but once Blair had settled the pen to paper, she started to harass her with questions about her leg. "Shh, I can't think with you pestering me. Let me write this."

_I don't know what excuse you think worthy of standing me up yesterday, but it inconvenienced me greatly. _

_I will be at home today due to a slight incapacitation and will be unable to give you an opportunity to express your most abject apologies until 6pm, when I will await your visit._

_Blair_

She folded it crisply between her fingers. "Get Vanya to take this note to Hartley Hall."

Dorota took the folded paper, noting the Mr Daniel Humphrey marked heavily on the top. "Vanya not here until seven o'clock."

Blair gave an audible sigh. "Very well, send him in cab with it the minute he gets here. I mean it, do not let him even take off his coat before you turn him around and send him on his way. Tell him not to bother to return unless he has a reply. Now, go and wait at the door in case he's early."

"Let me look at your knee first."

"Dorota, do as I say! Don't bother me until he comes back." Blair tried to pass the time while she waited for Vanya's return from her bed. For all intents and purposes she appeared to be absorbed in the book before her but if anyone had been there to watch her they would have noticed that she hadn't turned the page for the past 20 minutes. Dorota's soft knock at the door broke the spell.  
>"Is Vanya back?"<p>

"Yes and..."

"Does he have a message for me?"

"No but..."

"What do you mean? It's not even 8.30 now, Dan doesn't have an early class, he had to be there. Would he not see Vanya?"

"Miss Blair, listen. Vanya say the houseman tell him that Mr Dan unwell and must stay in bed."

"What do you mean unwell? How unwell?"

"Sick enough for doctor to be called in everyday."

"What?" Blair felt aghast. "Fetch Vanya, it's impossible to get any sense out of you." She pushed back her covers and wrapped her robe around her pyjamas. Once she was alone again, Blair found her feelings had made a complete reversal. She'd been cursing Dan and all the while he had been suffering alone. The last day she'd seen him he'd been unwell but she hadn't imagined it could be still affecting him, it had been four days hence. Vanya cleared his throat uneasily at her door, clearly unhappy to be so close to her bedroom.

"What took you so long? Surely you thought this news would necessitate a certain haste?"

Vanya looked lost, as if trying to tease out the meaning behind so many words he didn't understand. "I...I had to wait, Miss Waldorf. They'd sent for a doctor and no one knew anything."

"Well, tell me what you know, for God's sake, Vanya."

"Miss, what Dorota already told you. The houseman I spoke to said Mr Humphrey has pneumonia and his fever is through the roof. That's all he knew."

Blair felt a pang of fear. "Pneumonia?" She had school mates who had lost family to the illness and she knew that despite the advances in medicine it could sill be deadly. "I'm going there, Vanya, call for a car and Dorota, the green jersey ensemble, now."

"Miss Blair, you not go to male boarding house."

"Don't be ridiculous, Dorota, that doesn't matter now. He needs me."

Dorota folded her arms across her matronly chest. "Miss Blair, no one need you when they sick. You most unhelpful. And Mistress Eleanor would not like."

"I don't care what mother would or wouldn't like, I need to find out how he is. Dorota, do as I say!"

"No, Miss Blair, you not going."

Serena's head peered around the door from the bathroom. "This is an almighty racket for so early in the morning."

"Serena, make Dorota see reason. She won't let me go to Dan but he has pneumonia and I have to know how he is. You'll come with me won't you?"

"I'd go anywhere with you, Blair, of course. Though it will make talk." The blonde girl tossed her unruly head. "Nothing I haven't heard before of course."

"It's so ridiculous! Dorota, telephone the Hall and demand to speak to someone."

"Miss Blair, I go myself. I the Countess Kishlovsky, is fine for me."

"We can go with you then, it's perfectly proper."

"No, I take Vanya. Even if you were his fiancé you should not go. Is not right."

"I hate this!" It wasn't often that Dorota managed to thwart her will, but for once she was immovable. If not for her injured knee Blair doubted she would have capitulated so easily. "I'm getting up, no, Dorota, don't touch me. Serena, can you help me to my study? I can't just lie here."

Dorota and Vanya followed their slow progress to the room and Blair settled into a chair before the hearth, brushing off any other offers of solicitude. "Dan should be here. I can't fathom the level of care he would get at Hartley, at Hewitt one would be lucky to get a second glance if one was ill. Can't we make up the guest room for him?"

Serena began to agree but Dorota shot her as forbidding a look as she could muster. "Oh, Mistress Eleanor would be happy with that, yes?"

"I told you, I don't care what Mother thinks."

Serena sighed. "B, Dorota is right, there's nothing you can do but wait."

"But who's to look after him? You saw him when he was here? He can't afford to lose more weight. He'll end up in a sanitorium and then I'll never... "

Dorota pointedly cleared her throat. "Miss Blair, I make basket to take."

Blair couldn't believe she was being railroaded in such a fashion. She tried to subdue the passion in her voice. "I suppose that will have to do. If anything happens to him, Dorota, the fault rests firmly on your head. I hope you can live with yourself."

"I make him my dumplings, yes? And chicken soup?"

"Yes, and send Vanya for grapes and oranges and… and a pineapple." She paused, trying to recall the things Dorota used to do for her when she was sick as a child. "And a hot water bottle and that liniment…I can't remember what it's called. You used to rub it on my chest. Why aren't you writing this down?"

"Miss Blair, I think I know better than you..."

"Don't talk back to me. I never should have let him go out that night. He's all alone, like Keats in Italy, sick and friendless. I'll never forgive myself if something..." Blair's face crumpled. "Dorota, what if if something does happen to him. We need to send another doctor, not some god forsaken quack that will probably bleed him half to death. He should be here where you can properly care for him!"

"Miss Blair, calm down. People not get bled anymore."

"But people die from pneumonia, Dorota, you're not taking this seriously."

"Miss Blair, I take this very serious. I nurse my brother through pneu...pneum...same thing. He very sick, but my kreplach cure anything."

"I'll believe that when I see it. Why are you just wasting time then? Go and cook your miracle cure. He could be dying and you're just standing there...hurry!" Dorota looked to the ceiling, her lips moving in a supplication to heaven at the impatience of her erstwhile mistress before turning toward the door. She called Vanya after after her to send to the markets with a long list of requirements to procure.

Once Blair had collected a pile of books for Dorota to take to Dan, hopping between the bookshelf and her chair, she felt at a loss. She arranged the stack in the order she felt he should read them in, putting some back and changing her mind so often she felt ready to scream. She couldn't recall exactly how many times she had had to shout down the stairs to speed Dorota, wondering aloud why everything had to take so interminably long.

Finally Dorota stood at her door, so laden with baskets and parcels that Blair would have laughed if she was capable of finding amusement in anything.  
>"Take him these books as well. He's read everything he owns, probably thrice over, he'll start going insane if he has to stay abed with nothing to do." She looked for a space in Dorota's already overladen baskets to place the bundle.<p>

Her companion gave a long suffering sigh. "Miss Blair, I ready to break already. I not a Polish peasant to carry my own weight in baskets. I take tomorrow."

"Make Vanya to carry something then, isn't that what we employ him for? And here's some money for a cab and for some flowers, daffodils I think. And don't dawdle, I need you home as soon as possible to tell me how he is. And don't leave until you've seen him eat and spoken to the house master to find out how he really is. Dan will probably pretend he has nothing more than a chill."

"Miss Blair, enough!" Blair started at the tone of her voice. "I worry that you start to care too much for this man."

After Dorota's departure, Blair could hardly contain herself. She retreated back to her bed but not even the floods of tears she allowed herself to indulge in made her feel any better.

_xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo _

It felt as though his room kept growing bigger and bigger, the walls shimmering like a mirage. Voices would echo in his mind, sometimes talking so fast that he would want to scream to beg them to stop and sometimes so slowly one word would drone through his brain for what felt like hours. He felt like he had been running trying to find something important, if it was so important why couldn't he remember what it was? Faces would swim before him and then recede and then loom over him again. He'd reach but his fingers would find nothing. He would then be running again, a weight on his chest so heavy that every crushing breath was an agony. The sense of loss and fear and crippling anxiety so overwhelming it could crush him. Turning and turning in his bed trying to find somewhere cool to rest, feeling like the burning fever was going to consume him in his entirety.

Until it finally stopped, his head blissfully emptied of thoughts and visions and he could fall into dreamless sleep.

Dan finally awoke with the feel of something cool, yielding and dry on his forehead. It was the first cool thing he had felt in days and he relaxed under it before cautiously opening his eyes to find the source. Dorota's round, slightly concerned eyes peered at him. The image was so unexpected he closed his eyes again convinced it was just another manifestation of his fever. But when the hand withdrew and he opened his eyes again, she was still there with a small smile on her face.

"Hello, Mr Dan. I bring soup. You should eat while still warm."

He took breath to speak but it just released itself in a paroxysm of coughing. He lifted the towel beside him to his mouth, trying to clear his chest. "Shhh. No talking before you eat. You too bony. Miss Blair make me come. She would come too, but I say no."

Dan shook his head, trying to breathe, finally getting the spasms that painfully racked his chest under control. "…Thank you. She shouldn't come here."

"I think not." Dorota fished into her capacious basket, removing various items before unwrapping a covered tureen and placing it beside him on the small table. "Now you eat. I make you kreplach. Make you well, no?"

Dan sat up, a little embarrassed by the disreputable state of his pyjamas. He hadn't exactly been prepared for company in them. He tucked the shirt around himself as best he could and pulled the bedclothes up high enough to cover the missing buttons before reaching for the soup. It smelt amazing and, as Dan couldn't remember the last time he had eaten, he didn't need any further prompting to pick up the spoon she provided for him. It tasted even better than the delicious aroma had promised. The soft dumplings floating in the soup could just about be the best thing he had ever eaten.

Dorota looked at him, satisfaction on her features at the obvious pleasure he was taking in her cooking. "You like?" He nodded, unable to find the breath to express himself properly. She nodded smugly. "I never met a man who not like kreplach."

She opened her basket again and started placing things in the room. A smaller basket was set out on his desk and she began to fill it with fruit. The sight of the pineapple made him laugh, making another bout of coughing erupt from his chest. What he was to do with it he had no idea, he'd never even tasted one before. He had to clutch the bowl in his lap to stop it spilling and Dorota shot him a look of caution. She finished filling the basket of fruit and then began supplementing the array of medications on his side table with a random of collection of jars and bottles. A fresh towel was put next to him and his water jug refilled with a cloudy liquid that looked like the lemon barley water he could remember his mother making him when he was small. Finally she laid a collection of books on his desk.

He could only feel dismay that Dorota would see him like this. His austere room and threadbare belongings, but she seemed to take no notice, only bustling around his room, tidying his desk and rehanging the clothes that lay on the floor. A few she examined closely, making small clucking noises at a hole in his sock or a missing button on a shirt. She piled a collection of items in her basket. "I take these to wash and bring back tomorrow."

"Dorota, it's unnecessary. I can see to it."

She laughed. "You not stop me, Mr Dan. Eat."

The broth and rich dumplings had filled his shrunken belly, even though the bowl was still half full. "In a minute. What day is it?"

"Wednesday."

"How..?" The sudden exclamation set off his coughing again and he clutched the fresh towel to his face as Dorota patted his back. He finally found the breath to finish his sentence. "How can that be?" The last thing he remembered was standing in the newsroom at the offices of the Daily News, the walls seemingly closing in on him.

"You very sick, Mr Dan. Housemaster say pneum….pneumo…very bad chest and fever. You sleep for a long time."

Dan groaned. Only a few weeks into his new job and he has to ruin it all by getting sick. There would be no way he'd keep his position now. "How did you know I was sick?"

"Miss Blair send Vanya when you not meet her yesterday. She angry first and then she worry. She rant about someone called Keats and so I come."

Dan had to suppress the laugh her words encouraged, learning caution after his last attempt. "Did she send me a message?"

"Mr Dan, I not talk until you finish soup."

Dan did as he was directed, focussing his attention back on the food before him. Dorota took a seat on his desk chair drawing it up to the bed, her eyes following the path of the spoon between the soup and his mouth until he'd emptied the bowl. "There, thank you, I couldn't think of anything I would have rather eaten."

"Good. I bring more tomorrow."

"Dorota, I thank you for your concern but I'll be fine. I already feel so much better."

"Oh no, I must. If I do not, Miss Blair insists she will come."

Dan could just imagine Blair forcing her way into the dormitory. He could also imagine the scene it would cause and thanked everything he could think of that she'd been prevented. As much as he wanted to see her face, it would make trouble for her. And he couldn't imagine her ever wanting to visit him again if she found him in the state he was in. "Did she give you a note or anything for me?"

"No, but she send books to you. Very heavy books." Dorota took the bowl from him, wrapping it in a cloth and stowing it back in her basket. "I go now so you must sleep." Her brow creased. "Mr Dan, Miss Blair like you. I like you too but wish you to be careful."

"I…I am, believe me. And I like her too...more than like her." Dan couldn't believe he was spilling his heart to Blair's companion. Her face was so warm and motherly that the words came unbidden. "And believe me, Dorota, I understand whatever regard she has for me can't last."

"She softer around you and…" Her words trailed off and she gave him a troubled look. "Mr Dan, Miss Blair very expensive. And now I say no more."

Dan couldn't stop the laugh erupting, which again turned into another painful bout of coughing. Dorota patted his back again, waiting for him to quieten, before speaking. "Now to sleep. Tomorrow I bring pierogies. Make you fat."

"Can you wait for a moment while I write Blair a note?" He reached for some notepaper and pen that always sat on his side table, leaning on the back of a textbook to write.

_Thank you for Dorota and her soup and everything else you had her bring me. Especially the pineapple, I've always needed one of those. It will make a fine paperweight. _

_I'm sorry to have worried you and please know that you don't need to send Dorota to check on me. I'm on the mend and will, with little doubt, soon be well enough for you to rain fire and brimstone on me for standing you up. My sincerest apologies for that. _

_And now Dorota is getting impatient with me, so I'll write no more except to say that I think of you always. _

_Dan_

He folded the note and passed it to the waiting Dorota. Once she had left, he reached for the pile of books, hoping to find a message for him there. He picked up the book on top, _is 5_, by E.E. Cummings, which he had read in it's entirety but only through snatching a few verses here and there while perusing bookshops, before the glare of the store clerk became too apparent and he'd have to put it back. He opened the cover to find the note he was so sure she would send him.

_I didn't know what you might feel like reading so there is a selection of everything. Don't put them face down, don't dog-ear the pages and DON'T even think about eating while you're reading, on pain of permanent disfigurement._

_Get better soon. I now have to organise Nate and your party for both of you, singlehandedly I might add, and could use your assistance. If you're not better by then, please refer back to the first paragraph to find out what the consequences will be. _

_And, in case you were wondering, illness is for the weak, Humphrey. If you think it's a good excuse for standing me up, then you will find yourself gravely mistaken (see above). _

_Blair x_

Dan enjoyed the shrewish note far more than he would have any flowery missive, although, as he thought about it more, said missive would have been very welcome. But the simple x she ended the note with was enough to sustain him, for weeks if necessary.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/n's I wasn't sure about the first part and almost scrapped it altogether but it insisted on staying. I look forward to your thoughts as always. Sorry it has taken so long to update (again!)**

**Not my characters, as you are well aware.**

* * *

><p>It was several days before Blair's knee had healed sufficiently for her to go back to her classes at Barnard. She spent the time in bed, restless and bored. The few hours Dorota was absent stretched interminably. It wasn't that Blair begrudged Dan the attention but it was frustrating lying uselessly when she had so much to do. The frustration would vent itself when her hapless companions returned home, so much so that both Dorota and Vanya crept about the house, trying to avoid her ire. The entire household was thankful when she deemed herself recovered enough to descend the staircase to the first floor of the penthouse.<p>

Blair returned to campus with Dorota and Vanya following ten steps behind. It didn't suit her consequence to be seen in the company of the plump countess nor the plodding footman, but it also didn't make sense to travel to campus alone when they were headed there also. The party separated on the south lawn, where Blair went to the theatre costume shop to see Amelia and Vanya lugged Dorota's baskets to Hartley Hall. Campus held little pleasure when she realised that there was no chance to arrange an assignation with Dan. He was still convalescing, unable to leave his room. It didn't seem reasonable that an hour spent in the park with her would adversely affect him but Dorota assured her that the doctor had ordered complete bed rest for at least another week. Blair would find her feet leading her toward his residence, lingering on the paving, looking up at the window Dorota had pointed out as his. Feeling like an unlucky Romeo because she never saw him looking out.

Their daily messages, passed by Dorota, became her only source of satisfaction, though she found his words too prosy. Blair thought it time to give him some direction in his idleness. She stopped at a bookshop on Broadway on the way home, the campus store held too many cheap mass-produced books for her to grace it with her custom, unless it were strictly necessary. It took her longer than planned to peruse the shelf of poetry, despite her final selection remaining with her original thought. The copy of Shakespeare's Collected Sonnets was hand bound with a embossed calf skin cover. The smell alone was enough to make her smile, especially when she imagined Dan performing the exact same action. She made the shop clerk wait as she penned a brief note to slip inside the cover.

_You must be at a loss of how to spend your time since you can't leave your bed, so I thought you might need some inspiration._

_Blair x_

The response was immediate, so swift she knew he had immediately understood the hidden request behind her gift.

_The sonnets could make one never dare set pen to paper again. I hope that wasn't your intention, though my humble verse can't do justice to a fraction of your fascinations._

_If you would keep me in your pocket_

_To withdraw at wish or will_

_Or whim or want_

_Or simply habit_

_I'd be so convenient_

The following day a new fountain pen joined the collection in Dorota's basket. Blair hurried home after her final class, breathlessly anticipating the next stanza in his spiky scrawl, snatching the note from Dorota's hands to read before she would even greet her household.

_You could keep me comfortably_

_Confident in my company_

_Buttoned tight_

_Secure against loss_

_And curious fingers_

And next a bottle of ink.

_I'd refute all else_

_And live happily content_

_Safe between_

_Your diary_

_And your cigarettes_

Followed by a crisp ream of Blair's favourite pressed writing paper.

_And I'd know you_

_Though it be close_

_All the better to feel_

_The warp of your secrets _

_And the weft of your desires_

Her imagination almost failed her then, but she regrouped and wrapped up a copy of the most recent edition of Roget's Thesaurus, hoping he wouldn't think she was making a comment on his vocabulary.

_I'd like to keep you in my pocket_

_Tucked inside_

_The left of my jacket_

_Above my wishful heart_

_(Though you already dwell there)_

Dorota ceased her visits before she could receive another stanza, telling Blair firmly that Dan was now perfectly capable of making his way to the dining hall by himself and so had no more need of Dorota's attentions. It cut off her means of communication for, no matter how she pressed her, she would not return and nor would she send Vanya.

Blair insisted Nate visit him in Dorota's stead, even attempting to make him attend Dan's classes in his absence, to take notes so he wouldn't be at a disadvantage when he was finally able to return. Nate refused point blank, despite Blair's threats to send a personalised invitation to his party to his mother.

"Blair, I'm failing my own classes. Dan won't thank me for it, I promise. But of course I'll visit him, I did today already."

"Why didn't you say so?"

Nate gave a snort. "Why would I? You've never cared to hear about my day to day activities before."

"How is he?"

"He's good."

Blair tapped the toe of her Ferragamo pump. "Are you being deliberately evasive? Surely you have more to say than that?"

A note of frustration crept into Nate's voice. "Blair, he's fine. I don't know what your problem is. The doctor said he can go back to classes tomorrow."

"See, that's important information, Nate. Now rack your small mind, what else did he say? Did he have a message for me?"

"I don't remember talking about you at all. Wait...he asked if you were well."

"What did you say?"

"I don't remember. But if I saw him now I'd say you were unhinged."

"Nathaniel Archibald, stop being so argumentative, you need to go and see him immediately."

"To tell him you're insane?"

Serena collapsed on the sofa, breathless with giggles over their exchange. Blair shot a quelling look in her direction. "To take a message to him for me! Vanya, get Mr Archibald's coat."

Nate gave a long suffering sigh. "Blair, I can't see him right now, I've got an appointment with my tailor in an hour."

"Surely this is more important than that? How can you be such a poor friend?"

"To him or to you?"

"To him, of course."

"But I saw him this morning already. Dan would understand that I can't stand up my tailor. Your message can wait until later."

It didn't matter how she pestered him, Nate wouldn't cede to her demands. In fact, he took his leave not long after, citing any duty he could think of in order to get away. Blair was entirely out of charity with him. It was the least he could do when she was organising his party with no help from him at all. Between that, the demands of the costume shop and her commitment to passing her midterms, she found herself without a moment to spare. So much so that she was entirely unable to arrange to see Dan, even though he had returned to classes, not even able to find time for a snatched greeting in the library. By the time the day of the party arrived, she was in a simmering state of anticipation, tempered with an anxiety that he wouldn't be well enough to attend.

Blair checked herself over in the mirror for the umpteenth time, nerves making her question her choice of dress, lipstick, everything. It was too late to change, the party had begun and, as it was, she would already be more than fashionably late. Serena stood at the door, her eye roll almost comical.

"B, you're going to wear out the mirror if you keep looking in it. You look superb, now, can we go?"

"You're one to talk. The amount of time you spend at your dressing table." Blair smoothed her hands over her hips. The Callot Souers dress had been in her wardrobe for longer than she cared it admit but the intricate detail always enchanted her. The simple cut was timeless, none would guess that she had procured it over two seasons before. It hung like a sheath around her body, the tiers of subtly hued embroidery giving it enough weight to slide against her skin deliciously.

Serena leaned against the wall as she met Blair's eyes in the mirror. "You are gorgeous, B. You look like you escaped from fairyland in that dress."

"That's more your department isn't it?"

"Whoever heard of a 5 foot 10 inch fairy? Come on, the car's waiting and we're already late!" Serena's gold sequined dress flared around her legs as she turned and left the room, the surface so encrusted it was impossible to know what fabric lay beneath. The deep white fur collar of her coat stood in a ruff around her face and then swept in a column to her knees. Her friend looked magnificent, as always.

Blair wrapped her own more modest velvet opera cloak over her shoulders as she followed her down the stairs. "I adore your coat, I wish I could wear that collar."

"Why not?"

Blair shook her head. Her petite figure would be swamped by the voluminous fur. "I'd look like it was trying to eat me."

Serena giggled. "Let's go, I want to dance and your knight errant awaits you. Finally you might do something more than read romantic poetry and gaze out the window."

Blair tossed her head but didn't deign to give a reply as they left the penthouse. Her stomach tightened further as the car covered the short distance to Nate's building but she looked with critical approval at the lights that festooned the awning and the array of liveried doormen that flanked the door.

Dan stood at the entrance with Nate, greeting the party guests, or rather Nate was greeting them and then introducing them to his co host. A particularly garish flapper was grasping at Dan's arm, blinking coquettishly up at him. She could see the illness still lingering on his features, the dark circles under his eyes making them seem overlarge for his face. He hadn't noticed her arrival yet. Blair turned to the nearest footman, sliding her cloak from her shoulders in one voluptuous movement and peering back over her shoulder just in time to see Dan's eyes flicker to her, words stilling on his lips.

"Blair, there you are, finally. Uh..." He looked down at the girl still clutching at his arm. "Uh...this is... Miss...uh."

"Miss Yuki, Nelly, and you're Blair Waldorf. Enchantée."

Blair looked down at the bejeweled fingers the girl held out and then at the other hand holding the fabric of Dan's sleeve. "Humphrey, I know you've been unwell but I didn't realise you still had leeches clinging to you."

Dan's eyes flared in shocked amusement while the flapper withdrew her hand with a snap, a scowl settling on her sharp features. "My, I heard you were a bitch but that was the most uncivil thing I have ever heard."

Blair tucked her hand into the crook of Dan's arm and smiled sweetly across at the girl. "Oh, that was just a taste of the Waldorf charm. Now, Nelly, was it? Make yourself scarce...unless I need to get Nate to escort you out? I'm not sure that I saw your name on the guest list."

Nelly's frown deepened but she took Blair at her word and turned quickly on her heel, moving toward the crowded staircase. Dan met her eyes, the corners of his lips quivering. "Was that necessary? She was actually quite nice."

"Entirely necessary, Humphrey, how can you know where she's been? I can't have you getting sick again. Now, Nate can manage the guests by himself. I demand you get me a drink and then dance with me and then perhaps I'll let you lead me into a secluded corner where we can get reacquainted."

Blair would have been content to stay on Dan's arm all evening had she dared. But Waldorfs didn't follow and neither did they simper, so she allowed Nate to lead her in a charleston and gave Chuck Bass a foxtrot. But the slow dances she saved for Dan. She made him stay for one fast number, her feet twitching uncontrollably to the blaring jazz, but she knew he was struggling and for once she forbore to tease him about it. The feverish spots of colour on his cheeks at the end of the dance and his laboured breathing gave her pause.

"Are you alright?"

He withdrew his handkerchief to smother a cough. "I'm fine. I just need to catch my breath."

"You need to get out of the city and get some fresh air. Despite...things...you should...you must come to the Hampton's. Serena and I are to be there 'til Wednesday."

"You know I go to Hudson tomorrow. The air will be fresh enough there." Blair held his gaze, blinking slowly. "But...maybe I can catch the train up on Monday. My Dad won't be pleased but..."

She smiled up at him. "But I will, and which is more important?"

"Well, if that's the case, how can I refuse?" His eyebrows shot up with such a teasing look, she had to curse the crowded room that prevented her from tugging his dark head to hers. It was still early and the party was a little too sober yet for such public displays of affection.

"I'll send a car to the station. There's no telephone line there yet but you could telegram me your arrival time?"

"Yes, Ma'am. Your wish..."

She squeezed his arm. "Your command. I'm glad you understand me."

Nate approached them with a bottle of champagne in his hand and a familiar grin crossing his face. "So, Daniel, your first party is a hit. I insist you come with me, I have some people I'd like you to meet. Blair, you can monopolise his attention later. Serena was looking for you."

Blair, feeling too content with herself to respond to his jibe, restricted herself to a mere withering gaze. "Thank you, Nathaniel. Dan, meet me by the bar after?"

Dan smiled his acquiescence and she left him to look for her statuesque friend. It wasn't difficult, Serena lit up the dance floor. The tall man partnering her could hardly keep pace. Blair tapped him on the shoulder. "May I cut in? I believe this dance was promised to me." He looked startled but Serena gave a delighted squeal and took her hands in her own, abandoning her companion without a second glance. Blair giggled as their steps fell in together. "I hope I'm didn't interrupt anything."

"No, rather you saved me, he had far too many hands to be a gentleman."

Blair squeezed her hand but it was hard to find the air to reply when the music brayed so joyously and her feet moved with such elation it could only be mirrored from her own heart. It was only when her shoes began to pinch that she thought to leave the floor. Serena however was indefatigable, merely farewelling Blair with a grin as Nate came forward to take her place.

A waiter passed her and she took a glass of champagne from his loaded tray, more to wet her parched mouth than for want of alcohol, sweeping her eyes over the crowded bar for sign of Dan. He was easily found, sitting in a club chair by the wall, though unfortunately not alone. The same girl that had been fawning over him at the door sat beside him. Obviously Blair hadn't made herself clear. Her hips gave a provocative swing as she stalked over to them. "Humphrey, there you are." She perched on the edge of his chair, slipping with a calculated tumble into his lap. "Oops." A smirk tugged at her lips as she raised her brow and leant back against Dan's shoulder, reaching up to tug his face to her own. His hesitation was evident but it only took a moment before his mouth opened over hers.

She didn't release his head until she saw, from the corner of her eye, the girl stand and move away. Dan spluttered against her cheek. "Blair! What was that for?"

"Just claiming my territory, Humphrey. That girl is far too coming." She leaned into his neck, laying a swift kiss. "And you are far too innocent to be left alone."

A deep chuckle sounded near her ear. "I see. A babe in the woods?"

She dropped another kiss as she trailed her finger down his cheek. It was getting later and the party had settled into hedonistic excess. No one paid their intimacy any mind. "Yes, exactly." He nuzzled his head into her hair and closed his eyes, his breath stirring her hair as he gave a sigh. "You're not enjoying this."

His head slowly shook against hers. "Not at all, the current situation I find myself in is intolerable."

"I don't mean me." Blair leaned back and took his face between her fingers. "Look into my eyes. You are tired. It's too noisy, the company is tasteless and you want to retire upstairs. With me."

His face creased in sleepy amusement. "Your tactics are very persuasive, Waldorf, but I believe it's not done to abandon your own party, no matter how few people you know at it."

"Please, you have no social sense at all and I've already been accused of incivility, we don't know any better. Show me upstairs? I want a tour."

"You've been here before, surely Nate performed that duty."

"It's not a duty, besides my memory is hazy and I can't remember the layout." His lips curled up in the way she so adored, making her press another kiss to the exact spot. "Show me, please?"

"How am I meant refuse that?" Dan lifted her from his lap, taking her hand into his to lead her through the crowded room and up the staircase. The corridor at the top was thankfully bare of people. His firm grip guided her to a door, which opened to reveal Nate's study. "So this, my lady." Dan gestured at the mostly empty shelves. "Is where Nate's famous library is kept. Look and weep."

"I'm not even going to bother replying to that. Stop talking." She wrapped her fingers around his lapel. "You should be paying attention to me, not making fun of Nate."

Dan's lips quivered as he pressed them to hers. Her hands crept up around his neck, teasing the groomed hair at his nape as the kiss deepened. He drew back too soon, giving a gasp. "It's mostly you, and perhaps a little of the champagne, but my head is swimming. I think I need to sit down."

Blair grasped his collar tighter. "You've just promised to come to the Hampton's. I command you not to relapse."

"Don't be over dramatic. I'm hardly going to do that...just give me a moment."

"No, you're going to lie down immediately. I have to come and supervise. Take me to the guest room."

He tried to protest but she silenced him with another kiss, and another when he attempted to speak again. Eventually he gave in and her heart started a beat that rivaled the jazz drifting up the stairs as he lead her from the study to another door in the corridor. The room was sparsely furnished but a large bed lay in the middle of the room covered in a starkly masculine cream and brown eiderdown.

Dan hovered uncomfortably before the door, his fingers running over his mouth and up to his hair, making a mess of the previously ordered curls. It allayed Blair's own nerves that he could be so unsettled by her company. She reached up to take his occupied hand in her own and led him toward the bed. "Humphrey, you're a mess already. Relax, can't you?"

"Impossible...not when I'm with you."

His bow tie was already askew so she turned to him and loosened it further, unbuttoning the top of his shirt, shivering a little as his fingers ran over her bare arms. "Now, you're going to lie down and I'm going to watch over you."

His hands dropped to his sides. "You should go back to the party."

"Why? Are you bored of me already?"

"No, but what if..."

"Enough of your wherefores and what-ifs. Lie down!" Blair pushed against his chest with more force than she had intended and Dan half sat, half lay on the bed. The astonished look he gave her made her giggle. "I don't care what the trash downstairs think about anything. Besides, you're not there to dance with." She raised her brow. "Although, I do confess, the foxtrot I had with Bass was invigorating."

Dan's dark eyes narrowed slightly. "Fine. Stay then, if you will." It wasn't quite the reply she was looking for but it would do. He stretched out on the bed, it made her feel inclined to take his shoes off but she restrained herself against the temptation. It was a gesture so unfamiliar she wasn't even sure where to begin. Instead she sat tentatively on the bed beside him. He rolled over to make space for her and she lay back on a pillow, her nerves returning to the fore, making her lie more rigidly than she intended.

Dan sighed deeply. "I have so much I want to ask you, we haven't been alone in an age, but I'm so tired I can't think."

"Don't then." She entwined her fingers with his as he turned to face her. "Dan?"

"Hmm?"

"I missed you."

"And I you...more I wager. I had nothing else to think about."

"And I too much. I think I've been going a little crazy."

"I like you crazy." She could feel the soft falter of his chuckle against her temple. "And I'm sure it's been very entertaining for Dorota. Thank you for sending her to me. You don't know how much it meant to have her attention...as much as I told her I didn't need it."

Blair looked over at him; his eyes had dropped closed, exposing the fine skin above his lashes. "I just wish it could have been me instead."

"Mmmm...that would have been nice." His voice thickened sleepily. "More than nice."

She didn't answer for a long pause, letting the affection in his words wash over her and her thoughts meander. "Dan, did you write anything else for me?"

The only reply was a soft snore resounding against the pillow beside her. Blair felt a little piqued, she knew he was tired but she had thought her charms at such close proximity would have allayed at least some of his fatigue. She lifted her head from the pillow, regarding him solemnly. It was rare that she could stare at him so intently. It had never used to be so hard but now it happened that she would drink in his face and he would meet her eyes so warmly, she'd have to look away, before her cheeks could flush. At least he couldn't fluster her in his sleep. Dark hollows lay under his eyes and the colour in his cheeks had faded leaving him pale and drawn. But the sharp line of his jaw and cheek bone tempted her finger to run along the chiseled hollow before she lay a fleeting kiss to his lips, hoping it would wake him from his slumber. It failed to work, but when he rolled closer, wrapping an arm around her and tucking her against his body, she didn't mind. She didn't care about the havoc it could be wreaking on her hair or the way it crushed her dress, she hadn't thought it possible to feel such contentment. Blair let her eyes drift closed, feeling the beating of her heart against Dan's chest, slowing to the pace of his own.

Her eyes opened with confusion at the sound of a knock and the worried note in Serena's voice coming through the door. "Blair, you must be in there? Please tell me you are, we need to go." The door knocked agin. "B? I'd leave you here, but it's nearly dawn and the car is picking us up to take us to the Hampton's in a few hours."

Blair regretfully moved Dan's arm from where it still lay around her and sat up slowly, blinking against glow of the lamp. She kept her voice low. "It's ok, I'm here, you can come in."

The door opened slowly and Serena peeped cautiously through the gap, eyeing Dan lying fully clothed across the bed. "This looks cosy. You disappeared hours ago. Anything you need to tell me, B?"

Blair glared at her friend. Dan didn't move, his heavy breathing indicating he was still fast asleep. "Only that your mind is a cesspool and I'll meet you downstairs in moment."

Serena laughed and drew the door closed again. Blair leaned over Dan's prone form, fluttering her lashes against his cheek. "Dan?" He gave a twitch but his eyes remained closed. He looked so peaceful she didn't attempt to wake him again, only dropping a brief kiss on his upturned lips before collecting her shoes and padding silently to the door.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Dan made it to the station with just enough time to buy his ticket and throw his trunk aboard before the train let the platform. He settled into his 3rd class seat with a fuzzy head and heavy eyes. It wasn't from over indulgence, the few cocktails he had indulged in hadn't sat well with his still delicate constitution and so he had switched to soda water early in the evening. He wouldn't have gone to the party at all if not for his longing to see Blair and sense of obligation to Nate.

It had been more than entertaining though, despite his fatigue. Especially having Blair perched on his lap, breathing words into his ear, swinging him between lust and amusement or rather, a crippling combination of them both. It had taken more self control than he could have fathomed to not take advantage of the connection between them when she had lain beside him on his bed. It gave him mixed feelings that his exhaustion had won out over desire. A spark of anticipation wouldn't be repressed when he thought of the time he could spend with her if he could make his way to the Hampton's.

Dan tried to find a comfortable spot on the hard leather headrest to snatch an hour of sleep, but the swaying carriage kept jolting him from his pose until he gave up the idea altogether. He instead withdrew the letter he had received from the Daily News the day before from his satchel. It sat crisply in his hands, unopened, filling him with a sense of foreboding, sure that it held news of his dismissal. His fingers tore open the envelope before he could put it off once again.

_Dear Mr Humphrey,_

_Unfortunately, due to your prolonged absence from the copy room, we have been obliged to fill your position as copyboy and will no longer require your services in this capacity._

_However, given the positive response to your recent submission to the Arts section, and it's subsequent publication, we feel able to offer you a junior position as a staff writer under the Arts Editor of The Daily News. Please visit our offices at your earliest convenience to discuss the terms of your contract._

_We wish you speedy recovery and look forward to your return to our team._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Mr. J. Patterson_

_Editor-in-Chief_

_The Daily News_

Relief washed over him, he had no idea that his review had even made it to publication. The sudden escalation of his illness had meant he had barely known if his submission to the newspaper had been even legible. The letter from Patterson made his spirits soar. He read the letter over again, happy to be no longer subject to the grinding duties of a copy boy. And, furthermore, it would give him more opportunity to escort Blair to events, without the pressure on his slim pockets. He lay his head back, allowing his thoughts to explore that pleasurable direction.

Rufus and Jenny met Dan's train with infectious delight, immediately settling into the familiar patter of conversation that flowed continually between the small family. But he quickly grew tired of the concerned questions about his health and how hard he had been working. It was only when he snapped at his father and sister that he had come to relax and enjoy his family's company, not be constantly reminded of his duties in New York, that they stopped harassing him.

Once Jenny had gone to bed, Dan and Rufus retreated to the study. Dan retrieved the quart of whisky he had hidden in his bags that Nate had made him take, convincing him that he was doing him a favour in removing it from the building. Although with the amount of contraband alcohol he had left in his apartment, one bottle more or less wouldn't make any difference if he were raided.

Rufus eyed the bottle with a frown. "Daniel Humphrey, don't you know how dangerous being found with liquor is? How the hell did you get hold of it anyway?" He paused as he took it from Dan, turning it in hands. "On second thought, don't answer that, I suspect I don't want to know." The disapproving attitude didn't stop his father draining the rest of tea in his cup and replacing it immediately with a generous measure of the amber fluid. Dan noted with amusement that the amount he poured for his son was markedly smaller.

They sat in silence. Dan was glad for it after the day of relentless questions from his sister. But he hadn't failed to notice how his father had been mostly silent, struggling to engage in Jenny's inconsequential chatter or respond to his son's quips. His pensive air made Dan wonder how best to raise the topic, a feeling as unfamiliar as it was uncomfortable. As it was, he didn't need to at all, Rufus broached it himself.

"Dan, I'm glad you're here, more than just to see you. We need to talk..." Rufus' words caught in his throat and he took a sip from his cup. "It's about your mother."

Dan could guess the direction of his fathers words without him having to elaborate. "She's not coming back is she."

His father looked startled. "How do you know that? Did she write to you?"

"No, but give me some credit, she's been gone for over six months. Does Jenny know?"

"No, and I don't want you to tell her. Not yet anyway."

"Why isn't she returning?"

Rufus dropped his head into his hand. "Apparently some Italian count has romanced her off her feet."

Dan didn't answer for a spell. A knot of anger writhed within him alongside the constant concern about his father's solitude. "What are you going to do?"

He gave a snort of mirthless laughter. "What can I do? Even if I could afford to go to Milan, how could a penniless music teacher compete with an european aristocrat?" He took up the bottle of whisky once more, filling his teacup almost to the brim. "She's been away so long anyway that I don't even miss her anymore." His tone became bitter as he gazed sightlessly down at the liquor. "Alison always felt trapped here with me and by you children, like we all held her back from achieving the greatness she thought she was missing out on." Rufus looked up, regret on his features. "Oh Dan, I didn't mean that. She's always loved you both so much."

Dan shook his head. "I know, Dad, I would have had to be been blind not to see it. You're not telling me something I don't know."

"There's more. Dan, I'm lonely here. Without you or Jenny close by, I feel like I'm going insane." He clutched his cup tighter, his face drawn. "I've had an offer to move to Brooklyn. There are more students who need private music lessons there, and the pay is higher, my friend is going to help me set up. It's closer to both you and Jenny. You can spend weekends with me...maybe even, if it's not too difficult, you could live with me for the next school year. I hear the new subway makes it easy to commute now."

The look of hope on Rufus' face made Dan catch his breath, feeling torn by the desire to see his family more and the fear of his world's colliding. His father continued, blind to his son's apprehension. "I'll sell the house and take an apartment near the station so it's convenient for you."

To have his father live in Brooklyn, to live there himself, was something that Dan couldn't admit to Blair and the thought made him feel so guilty he couldn't look Rufus in the eye. "That's...that's great, Dad. I'm happy you'll be so close." He tried to choose his words carefully. "It's just that I've promised my friend Nate that I'd move in with him but...but I'm sure I can come and stay when I don't have to work early. You see, Nate's apartment is directly between the Daily Mail offices and campus. I haven't told you yet, it only just happened, but I've been promoted to junior staff writer."

"That's wonderful news, son. Where's this apartment?"

Dan swallowed, knowing that his next words would cause a reaction he wasn't looking forward to. "Park Avenue."

Rufus' eyebrows twisted in disbelief. "Park Avenue? Dan, how in hell do you propose to pay for that?"

"Nate won't accept more than what I pay for Hartley. He didn't want me to give him anything, but I couldn't do that."

"Humphrey's do not rely on charity. It's absurd, Dan. I can't believe you'd even consider it. It's this girl you keep talking about, isn't it? Clair or whatever her name is."

"Blair, Dad." Dan silently bemoaned his uncontrollable tongue, but he couldn't help the constant reference he made to her, she was so much of his life in New York that almost every single activity he conducted led back to her. He had never been able to lie to his father. "And I guess you're right. She would never be interested in someone living in Brooklyn."

"It's no wonder you've been so sick, gallivanting around chasing socialites. You should be concentrating on your studies."

"Dad, it's not like that."

"It's always like that. If only your mother was here, she'd talk sense into you. It can't go anywhere, Dan, you'd be a fool if you thought any different."

"I know all this. I know it could never be serious but I can't give her up...just yet. Don't worry, I know she'll tire of me soon enough. I don't know what she could want from me other than companionship."

Rufus took a deep draught of his drink before meeting Dan's eyes with an intent gaze. "I just don't want to see you get your heart broken."

"It's probably too late for that but, believe me, Dad, I know all the arguments against it, more then you."

"You say that now, but you're not living in one of your novels, Dan. There are responsibilities, consequences. And if, God forbid, you got her…"

Dan, knowing where his father was going, cut him short. "That isn't going to happen. I have my eyes open."

"For your sake, I hope that's true."

"I hate to be trite, but isn't it better to love and lose rather than never love at all."

Rufus reached across and rubbed Dan's head affectionately. "I forget how young you are."

Dan pulled his head away. "Dad, don't. I've read those old letters of yours. The ones you keep hidden in your music cabinet."

His father looked stunned. "You had no right. They were private, Dan."

"Does Mom know you still keep them?"

"I should have burned them years ago. They're from my youth. Life changes."

"Lillian Rhodes didn't think so."

"What?"

"She thought that you could conquer anything if you were together. Her letters said as much."

"Well, Lily stopped thinking that. Like ends up with like. If I could keep you from that pain… Dan, I don't say this to be cruel, but it doesn't leave you."

"I only want to know this. Would you give it up? Change things so you never met her?"

"I…I would." His words held no conviction.

"Dad, you forget who you're talking to. I've never heard you tell such an untruth. Dan topped up his drink and took a draught before speaking again. "Will you tell me about her?"

Rufus met his eyes. "I shouldn't tell you this, but I haven't spoken about Lily for so long. I was her music tutor." Dan stayed silent, waiting for his father's next words. "I was at music school and tutored part time to support my expenses. She was the daughter of a New York society doyenne who needed to polish her piano. It was reckless but, Dan, she was so full of life and so beautiful that I can still remember every curve of her face." Rufus took up his drink once more, spilling a little into the saucer. "I love your mother, you know that, but those months with Lily are some of the most treasured memories I have."

"What happened?"

"We were going to run away together, I could barely support myself, I don't know what madness I was thinking, except we loved each other and surely that was enough to make us happy, no matter what the circumstances."

Rufus fell silent and Dan tried to find the words to interrupt his reverie. He took the bottle up and topped up his fathers depleted drink. "You didn't go through with it?"

He shook his head. "She didn't meet me the night we were supposed to leave. I suppose we were found out because I was dismissed from my post and I never heard from her again. A year later I read she had married a wealthy lawyer and I knew I had lost her for good." He gripped his cup with taut knuckles. "But life isn't all tragedy. I met your mother not long after and we were happy, Dan. I haven't pined for Lily all this time, but... I still wonder...about her."

"I know you and Mom were happy, I was there for a lot of it."

Rufus looked to the old music cabinet that sat against the wall by the fireplace. "I haven't read those letters for years. I guess I forgot about them." He returned his gaze to his son and raised his brow. "Or I would have put them somewhere less accessible."

He rose a little unsteadily, crossing the room to the cabinet. "I should hide them better. Does Jenny know? I'd hope you'd have more sense than to..."

"I never told her, Dad. And I doubt she ever found them, you know she would only practice her piano under duress."

Once Rufus held the yellowed letters, Dan bid him goodnight and retreated to his room, already feeling he was intruding on his fathers memories. It was with a sense of melancholy that he found his bed, wondering if such a fate would befall his own romance.

**A/n So things are warming up. My question is...how warm would you like them? I am tempted to change the rating to an M and I have a scene already written out, would you like to have it in full or a more edited version? **


	16. Chapter 16

**A/n's The beginning of this chapter probably should have been part of the previous one, but I only have a sense of that now. **

**As you can see, through overwhelming feedback (thank you all!) this story has been changed to a M rating. If this offends anyone, please let me know and I'll post an edited version for you. I don't believe, in the greater scheme of things that it's all that graphic but I hope you enjoy and I look forward to your thoughts, critiques...anything you want to give me. **

**I was wishing to have this story completed by the time the GG series comes to an end but I can't see how that will be possible, especially as my work is about to go mad until mid december. I hope the end of GG on our screens won't keep you from reading the rest of it, even if it still takes me a little while yet to complete. For completing this is something I'm determined to do.**

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><p>The conversation wasn't revisited for the rest of Dan's visit, but it didn't mean that neither he or Rufus weren't thinking on it. If Jenny noticed both her father and brother's distraction, she said nothing about it and her own high spirits did much to raise theirs, forcing them to partake in their usual family oriented activities.<p>

When Dan left on the Monday morning, he didn't tell Rufus he was going to the Hampton's for fear he would concern him further. He said instead that he had pressing business to attend to at his workplace. It wasn't strictly a lie, he was just embellishing the truth, knowing he shouldn't postpone his visit to the newspaper, worried they could withdraw their offer. But that faded in importance next to the thought of Blair awaiting him.

Dan tried to insist that his father and sister leave him to wait for his train but they wouldn't heed him, making impossible to slip away to the post office to send a telegram to give notice of his arrival. He would have to live in hope he was still expected, though he misliked the informality toward Serena's grandmother.

The majority of Dan's train trip was spent productively, his face intent over his notebook, cursing when the carriage jolted so his pencil skipped over the page. The notebook he had bought to dedicate to fiction, or more specifically, tales of Blair, had filled dramatically. He had begun to see a glimmer of the form the story was shaping into, a constancy to the characters and plot. Writing had dominated the time he had been forced to spend in bed and now the budding narrative was a constant thread running through his mind. It made him realise how much he missed being able to write purely for his own interest, resenting the time he had to commit to study and work. The solitude in his single dorm room had worn at him though. No longer could he isolate himself as he did as a schoolboy, losing himself for days in the written word, greater friends with his books than he was with any soul at his boarding school. Nate and Dorota's visits to him had been a gift, valued more even, if it were possible, than the tokens Blair had sent him and he looked forward with pleasure to the few days ahead of him to spend in such company.

As he read back over his previous work, his thoughts turned inexorably toward the words his father had said to him before they left the house.

"Dan, I've thought a lot in the past day and I have to tell you, I can't help but worry for you." Dan had tried to wave him away, dismiss his words, but his father insisted on finishing. "Please, hear me out. I know you, you've always been reserved but once a passion gets hold of you, I've never seen you let it go. As a father, I want to tell you to put your head down and forget about anything that doesn't involve your personal success." Rufus paused, resting his hand on his son's shoulder. "But I don't want to see you regret your your choices, and cause you to lose something that would haunt you for the rest of your life. But you have to be honest though, you can't pretend to be something you're not. Believe me, I've learned this, son."

Dan hadn't given much of answer, by the time he'd recovered from his astonishment, Jenny had returned with a thermos and some sandwiches for his journey. He hoped the hug he gave Rufus before he left showed some of the appreciation he had for his father's understanding.

And he was right. Dan didn't know what Blair really knew of his circumstances, he had managed to always steer conversation that even strayed near the uncomfortable truth away to safer territory. He hated the disparity in their lives, surely it was impossible that Blair could truly understand what his life was and still wish for him. But it made him find a grim kind of resolution, he had to be entirely honest with her. She was so determined to advance their physical relationship, it would unconscionable for him to allow her to carry a false sense of what he was actually made of.

Not many passengers disembarked the train at East Hampton station, the early month still keeping holiday makers and tourists away. Dan shouldered his trunk and made his way to where the porter directed him to find a car, wishing he had written down the directions Blair had given him to Serena's Grandmother's residence or that he at least knew more than her first name. It shouldn't have concerned him, the driver he spoke to immediately straightened his cap and leaped out of his car as soon as he mentioned Cecelia, opening the door and obsequiously ushering Dan into the back seat. Clearly the service brought the expectation of a sizeable tip.

The car wound slowly through the meandering streets. Dan had never seen such a collection of houses, if they could be called such, palaces would be a more suitable term. Some grandiose and old, settled comfortably into the landscape, and, dotted jarringly amongst them, more contemporary homes, showing all the sleek curves and sharp lines of the modern Art Deco obsession. Dan liked some of them, though his imagination was rather more roused by the rambling romance of the older buildings. The countryside was magnificent, dominated by the long straight stretch of beach and glimpses of the lakes and ponds hidden by the dense groves of trees. Everywhere he cast his eyes he saw water, surrounded by plush green acres of lawn.

It didn't take long before the car was drawing up a long paved driveway, lined with cedar trees, to a Georgian mansion nestled in a carefully manicured garden. But it wasn't the elegance of the architecture or the view of the beach behind the building that distracted him. It was a solitary figure by the sand dunes, her pale dress whipped up by the strong sea breeze, dark hair tangling around her head.

"Can you stop here? I'll get out. You can drop my luggage at the house." Dan scarcely looked at the change the driver tried to give him for the note he had passed him, waving his hand away as he alighted. Blair hadn't noticed the car yet, her focus absorbed by the wide blue expanse of the Atlantic. The smell of the ocean and the cedar overwhelmed his senses as he made his way through the convoluted paths that led around the garden

Another figure joined the distant scene. Dan hadn't seen his approach, being so singly intent on Blair. The man in the pale blue linen suit and burgundy cravat was instantly recognisable as Bass. He quickened his pace, the pleasure he had taken in the slow approach abruptly leaving him.

Blair didn't look particularly pleased at his appearance either, as she turned and began walking to the house when Chuck stood beside her. The man took her hand to stop her leaving. Dan's next breath was of pure relief as she snatched it back, his feet faltering to a stop as he watched. She lingered there and, if he strained his ears, he could just hear the voices the prevailing breeze blew his way.

"I didn't mean it, Blair. You take me far too seriously."

Blair folded her arms before her. "Don't even talk to me, Bass. You're just lucky I didn't tell..."

"I said I was sorry, you know you don't need to do that. I'll make it up to you..." The low tones of Chuck's voice faded in and out. "...I'll be the perfect gentleman, I promise."

"As if I'd go anywhere with you." Blair turned resolutely toward the house.

"Blair, wait." The moment Chuck grabbed her arm was the same moment Dan's feet broke into a jog, finally escaping the confines of the garden and reaching the lawn.

"Get your hands off me, Bass." Blair shrugged her shoulders and Dan watched Chuck's hands slide down her arms to grip her elbows.

"Blair, just wait, will you? Give me a chance, I'm really very nice when you get to know me."

"Go molest some other girl. I'm not remotely interested. Didn't I make that clear last night?"

"There's no other girl here, Blair."

"Anyone, just leave me alone!"

Dan didn't think he could run any faster but the panic in her voice made his feet redouble their efforts. "You heard her. Get your hands off her!" Dan took both of Chuck's shoulders, wrenching him from Blair with a violent tug.

"I should has guessed, the ever present Humphrey. I thought we'd managed to lose you for once." Chuck turned toward him, his face twisting into a sneer, but before he could voice another word, Dan's fist cracked into his cheekbone, making him stumble back and lose his footing in the grass. He nursed his eye as he staggered. "That was a mistake, Humphrey."

Blair moved toward him and he wrapped his arm protectively around her waist as she buried her head into his chest. "What the hell were you doing? She doesn't want you, Bass."

Chuck cocked his head. "And what does she want? Oh, that's right, she prefers gutter dwelling errand boys." If it weren't for Blair standing in the circle of his arms, Dan would have been unable to prevent his fist connecting with the mocking countenance once more. "When the stench of the working class gets to much for you, Blair, you know where to find me. Although, no doubt you would have lost your untouched fascination for me by then."

Dan saw Nate and Serena, and a young man who looked so much like the blonde girl next to him, he could only be her brother, walk up the paved path that led from the house. Nate's voice rang across the lawn. "What the hell is going on? Your shouting even woke Cece."

"Chuck was just leaving." Dan almost spat the words at Chuck.

"Finally we agree, Humphrey. I find myself tiring of the company you keep, Nathaniel."

Nate looked bewildered. "But your eye is swelling. What happened?"

Blair stepped away from Dan, but she kept one hand tucked around his, thankfully not the one still aching from it's violent use. "Chuck can tell you that story. We are going inside." He almost regretfully followed her, he would have liked nothing more than to physically see Chuck off the property himself.

The house seemed even grander up close, if that were possible. The conservatory was made of so much glass that he could hardly make out the door that Blair led him to. She removed her shawl in the warmth of the room, the late afternoon sun streaming through the windows. Dan wanted to tug her into his arms and greet her properly but he hovered by the door, unsure. Her lips curled up as she looked across at him, the guarded look in her eye slowly dissipating. "I can't believe you're finally here." She bit her lip. "Or as you are, over there."

"Blair, your arm."

She followed his eyes to the red marks already purpling into bruises on her elbow. "Oh? So much for the cocktail dress I was planning on wearing tonight."

Dan face darkened as he strode over to her to look at her more closely. "He better not show his face again. I won't be able to keep my hands from his neck. What did he do to you?"

"Nothing really. He just grabbed me."

"No, I mean, what was he trying to apologise for?"

"Oh. You heard that." Blair put her hand up to rub her brow. "He tried to kiss me last night, did in fact manage to, before I kicked him in the shin."

"Where the hell were Serena and Nate when this happened?"

"He cornered me in the library, you know the both of them have an allergy to books."

Dan ran his hand lightly over her arm again, wishing he could smooth her skin back it's usual creamy perfection. "I want to kill him for daring to even touch you."

A twinkle began to spark back in her eye. "I confess, I enjoyed watching you punch him. Between your fist and my shoe, I imagine Chuck will be feeling a little sore at least. I never would have guessed my poet had such a punishing left." She walked over, wrapping her arms about his lapel. "The pen is mightier than the sword indeed."

Dan sketched his hands over her cheeks, before pressing a fleeting kiss to her upturned lips. "I just wish I got here earlier."

"You didn't send a message? I would have met you."

"I didn't have time before my train left and thought I could surprise you. I regret it now. You would have been away from that monster."

"Come, I don't want to talk of him." Blair took Dan's hand in hers, "I'll show you your room so you can change. It's nearly cocktail hour and Cece's one rule is that all her guests join her in the requisite black tie. Although, once you meet her, you'll quickly realise that for Cece, nearly every hour is cocktail hour." She shot him a look from under her lashes. "You have bought your tuxedo with you I hope?"

"Of course." Dan blessed the forethought that had made him pack his dress clothes rather than leave them at Nate's after the party.

Dan's trunk had already been placed in the room Blair led him to. A gentle flush stained her cheeks as they hovered by the door. He tried to catch her eye but she kept her gaze focussed on her shoes. "I would...I'd come in and make sure...you're comfortable. But I must change first." She raised her head, eyes shadowed in the dim light. "My room is down the corridor, 3rd door on the left... if you need anything...at all."

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

It was with relief that Blair stood at the wide bay window of her room and watched Cece's driver pull away from the house, Chuck Bass firmly ensconced in the back seat. He had hardly let up on her the whole time they had been in residence, constantly giving snide remarks about Dan or veiled compliments that left her feeling filthy. Even as she recalled him grabbing at her, she couldn't help but shudder at the thought of being caught somewhere alone with Chuck where she was truly vulnerable. She could still feel the imprint of his hand on her skin, despite bathing to wash his touch from her.

The reflection in the mirror as she checked her appearance told her that the House of Eliot original she wore was suitably flattering so she draped a light shawl across her arms, artfully covering the marks on her arm and left her room, ready to meet the rest of the gathering for cocktails on the terrace.

Dan's door was firmly closed as she paused before it. Blair hesitated, about to knock but her rebellious fingers reached for the door knob instead, unsure what she hoped to find behind it. It turned easily under her touch, opening to reveal Dan clad in his shirt and dress trousers, fiddling impatiently with his bow tie in front of the dressing table. His face lit up at her entrance. "Blair, just in time. Can you fix this?"

Blair returned his smile. "And here I was just thinking you were just happy to see me. Leave that alone, you're making it worse." She walked over to him and straightened the mess below his chin. "I don't know how you survive, you can hardly dress yourself without assistance."

He dropped a kiss to her upturned face. "It was part of my ploy to get you right there." Another kiss descended. "So I could do that." Hands crept up behind his head, encouraging him to continue his advances and the kiss that followed left her breathless. But he tugged his head back too soon. "Come on, we can't be late, I have to meet the hostess, before she thinks I'm an ingrate."

Blair pouted but she knew his words were true. Cece was a welcoming host to all of her visitors, but above all, she adored guests of the younger male kind and so tardy introductions wouldn't please her. Dan put on his jacket, allowing her to fix the collar and smooth the unruly curl that threatened to fall over his brow.

A large framed nude of a lady bathing dominated one wall in the main entrance of the house. Dan paused before it as they passed it by, his breath catching as he leaned closer to examine it. "This is amazing."

"It's a Renoir. Cece's most favoured possession."

"I can see why. It's beautiful."

Blair's lips twitched. "Oh...that's not why she loves it. Although it certainly has charm."

Dan gave her a puzzled expression but she didn't elaborate, he would find out her meaning soon enough. Cecelia came sweeping into the room before they could continue. Her delicate bone structure and piercing eyes were all that remained of her beauty but she was still easily recognisable as the subject of the painting.

"I see you're appreciating my Pierre's work. He was always such a gentleman. But come to the terrace, I feel such a thirst today."

"You are always thirsty, Cece. Can I introduce you to Daniel Humphrey? Dan, this is Cecelia, Serena's grandmother."

Dan took Cecelia's hand and seemed uncertain on how to proceed as it lay limply in his palm. Eventually he lifted it to his lips, winning a pleased smile from the older lady. "Why Blair, you didn't tell me he was such a gentleman. It's more than I can say for your other acquaintances."

"It's a pleasure, uh, Mrs...uh ."

"Please, call me Cece, otherwise I'll be obliged to call you Mr Humphrey and that mouthful would be the death of me. May I call you Daniel?"

"Of course."

Cece held out her arm. "So, Daniel, you can take me to the terrace. Blair, I'm sorry to rob you of your escort, but you see, age must come before beauty."

Blair gave a bemused smile as she fell in behind the pair. Of course, Cece would be very taken with Dan's dark charms, she wouldn't have expected less, but she did hope she wouldn't monopolise too much of his time. She followed them to the broad terrace that fronted onto the ocean prospect of the house where Nate and Eric stood, drinks already in their hands.

It pleased Blair that she returned to her side after he had seen Cece to a chair by the impromptu bar. "Why didn't you tell me it was her? I didn't know where to look."

Blair watched the flush creep up Dan's cheeks, bringing a grin to her lips. "You could look anywhere. She'd just encourage you."

"I can't believe how much Serena takes after her."

Her tone grew a little dry. "Yes, every female in the family looks as though they just burst forth from sea foam."

Dan looked down at her, a grin quivering on the corners of his mouth. "And Renoir painted her as such?"

Blair pursed her lips. "As you see, Humphrey. Apparently there are quite a few artists that painted Cece, most of them in all her glory. I believe there is even one in the Louvre."

"That I would like to see."

Blair couldn't express the pert reply on her lips as Eric approached with a glass for each of them. "Cece wants whisky sours today, so whisky sours we all must have. You must be Dan. I'm Eric, Serena's brother." Dan shook his out stretched hand and the conversation became more general, boring Blair with talk of Eric's boarding school and his studies. It paused only when the butler announced that dinner was served, inviting the company to proceed to the dining room.

Blair's annoyance was tempered by a fair dose of amusement when she realised Cece had seated both Nate and Dan beside herself at the dinner table, dominating their conversation and leaving Blair and Serena to the attentions of Eric. Both gentlemen sat in rapt attention as she regaled then with stories of her days as an artist's model in Montmartre.

Dan had barely touched his meal. "I can't believe you actually drank absinthe with Toulouse Lautrec."

Cece looked almost coyly at him. "He painted me as well."

"You should write a memoir, Mrs...Cece. Or at least commission someone to do it for you." Blair snorted into her wine, causing the Dan to shoot a glance in her direction.

"Oh no, most of my stories will de with me. I'm respectable now. Besides, who cares what an old lady got up to in her youth?"

"I think you're selling yourself short. I find it fascinating."

Cece tapped him on the arm. "It was the shame of the family, Daniel. But when I returned to New York, with Richard's ring on my finger, they fell on me like the prodigal daughter."

"You must have an amazing collection of impressionist art."

"Yes, quite. Most of it is in storage. The family are all quite desperate to know what I'm to do with it when I die."

"It seems a shame that they aren't seen more."

"Oh, the shame would be to the Rhodes name. They still hate it that the matriarch of the family used to take her clothes off for money."

Blair noticed Dan give a start. "Your surname is Rhodes?"

"No, not now, that was two husbands ago, may they all rest in peace. But my children are all Rhodes so I guess that makes me one as well."

Dan didn't reply, turning his attention to the meal before him. Cece placed her hand on his arm to regain his attention. "If you are so interested in my collection, Daniel, I'll take you on a tour of what I have here tomorrow." Dan mumbled his gratitude as Blair looked down at her plate, a little put out. She had planned to do that herself, unaccompanied, although she knew he'd be as captivated as she was by Cece's anecdotes. "My second husband, your grandfather, Serena, spent years trying to track them all down, not because he had any love for art but more that he couldn't bear anyone looking at his unclothed wife." Nate choked on his wine, earning him an amused look from Cece. "And he did find quite a few. I never once tried to persuade him to stop, he was just increasing my art collection. Actually, if I'm quite honest, poor Richard thought I must have spent most of my time in Paris naked for the number of paintings I claimed were of me."

The entire table joined her laughter as she continued. "I'm half inclined to let Abby Rockefeller and the ladies have the lot for their museum, rather than let my faithless family split the collection up and auction it off to the first bidder."

Serena set down her fork with a sharp tap on the table. "Grandmother, you can't. You must leave me the Renoir at least."

Cece looked at her with indulgence. "I know you just called me that to irritate me." She looked archly at Dan and Nate in turn. "See what I have to put up with? Serena never cared about my paintings before."

Blair raised her voice over Serena's protestations. "I heard a rumour Abby wanted to establish a gallery for modern art in New York City but I didn't know it was going ahead. Where will it be?"

"I don't know exactly, but they plan to call it, most unimaginatively, I must say, the Museum Of Modern Art. I daresay Abby's beast of a husband wouldn't let his name be attached to it."

"Oh!" The sound made Dan's eyes dart to hers, smiling at the delight Cece's words bought her. "That's glorious news. I hope it's close our apartment."

The party moved to the parlour after they finished their leisurely meal, Cece sharing her whisky with the gentlemen, but leaving the two younger females out of her invitation.

Blair began to grow tired of Cece's dominance of the conversation. Dan did nothing but encourage her. The older lady became almost garrulous through the liquor and the attention. Blair could see his writer's mind ticking over, asking thoughtful questions to draw more information from her. It was impossible that he couldn't tell of Blair's impatience, he kept meeting the pointed looks she would give him with such smooth blandness, she wanted to throttle him.

When he got up to replenish Cece's drink, Blair took action. She cornered Dan by the bar, leaning into his ear with a furious whisper. "What are you doing getting her another drink?"

"Only at her insistence, Waldorf, besides she could drink me under the table."

She tried another tack. "You needn't encourage her. She's an old lady, she should be in bed."

"I hardly think she would agree to that. Blair, I'm just being an interested guest. And she's fascinating, I can't believe the people she's met."

"You weren't invited here to entertain Cece." The words left her mouth a little more tartly than Blair intended and the look of comprehension that dawned on Dan's face made her smile, despite her irritation. "Now, you've done your duty to the hostess, so now you should dance with me. Serena directed the butler to move the gramophone to the terrace, it's such a beautiful night, you need to come and dance with me."

"Fine, I'll abandon her to her grandson and if I fall out of favour and the eggs are cold tomorrow morning, it's on your head."

"Oh, Cece is a Rhodes, their revenges are far more shattering than cold eggs."

A strange expression flitted over Dan's face but before she could question him, Serena bounced back into the room clutching a pile of phonograph records. "You must all come outside, it's so stuffy in here. Nate is supervising the set up of the gramophone so we can dance." `

Cece rose from her chair. "I think I might retire, talking of all this has made me think I'm young again but it's not seemly for me to be gallivanting about with the young things all night." Dan and Eric both demurred but Blair met her eyes silently, leading the older lady to chuckle. "Eric, please ring for my maid."

Serena clutched at her grandmother's arm. "But Cece, you love to dance. And who's going to partner Eric?"

"No, although it tempts me, unfortunately my days of dancing in the moonlight in April are well behind me. I'm especially sorry for you, Eric, for it's clear you hold little hope of winning Blair's attentions from young Daniel here." Cece patted Dan's shoulder as she passed them, making Blair roll her eyes toward the ceiling. "And no one wants to dance with their sister."

The evening was glorious, though the chill breeze made Blair pull her fringed shawl further over her shoulders as they stepped out to the terrace. The waxing moon hung low on the horizon, reflecting across the ocean to bathe the scene in a silver glow. A footman appeared with more lamps, the light regretfully forcing the darkness to recede to a circle across the lawn.

Serena must have read her mind. "Can we dim the lamps? The moon is so bright surely we don't need anything else."

Blair slid her arms through hers "And they draw insects, I absolutely agree."

Serena didn't even need to be persuaded to put aside her own pile of jazz records, agreeing that the night was far more suited to the slower waltzes of Cece's collection. The mellow music began to swell from the gramophone, masking the sound of the waves drifting up from beyond the sand dunes. Dan sat on the wall, gazing out across the open sky but but looked up with a smile when Blair approached him. "So, that dance you promised me?"

"I don't remember promising."

Dan took the glass of champagne from her hand and placed it on the stone wall beside him, taking her hand as he stood up. "Oh, I distinctly remember a promise."

Their steps fell in with Nate and Serena, turning in a broad circle around the deep terrace. Blair moved her hand to dan's chest, allowing him to grasp it over his heart. "I think you have an admirer."

"What, Cece? No, I should think the boot's on the other foot."

"Falling for her withered charms, Humphrey?"

His hand tightened at her waist. "I prefer the term autumnal, far more poetic wouldn't you think? Now, help me out, what rhymes with Cece?"

Blair stopped dancing, dropping her arms in affront. "Dan, that isn't funny."

"Sorry... I am sorry, I shouldn't tease." Her dropped his head to rest it against hers. "It's just that you take the bait so adorably I can't help myself."

They silently continued their graceful pass across the sandstone, feet moving thoughtlessly together, the murmur of Nate and Serena's conversation the only sound other than the music. She was almost regretful when Dan's voice drew her attention, his lips moving against her temple as he said her name. "Blair...I have good news to tell you but...I confess I haven't been entirely honest with you, and it's... it weighs on me." He paused as if searching for his next words. "You thought I was working as a reporter, and I let you, but it wasn't strictly true."

She drew her head from where it lay on his shoulder and looked up at him intently. "I wondered why I never read anything in that appalling paper accredited to you."

"You actually read it?" Dan raised his eyebrow in wry surprise. "I thought the paper was far too commonplace for your attention. But never mind that, I... I was actually working as a copyboy there."

Blair blinked up at him as their feet came to a halt in the corner of the terrace. "I don't even know what a copyboy is."

"They are, as Chuck so tactfully pointed out, not much more than a titled errand boy. I thought I was going to be fired after I got so sick and I did in a way, as they filled my position in the copy room. But... but the arts editor has offered me a position as a junior staff writer on the strength of the Graham review. And I have to thank you, because it's due to you it was worth publishing."

She would have teased him as she had first planned if he hadn't had such a serious set to his features. "Dan, that's wonderful. But I don't understand why you didn't tell me in the first place?"

"I don't know, I guess...I..." He took a deep breath. "Blair, I'm poor. You know I study on scholarship, but you don't know that I would never have got to college without it. That my father is a poor music teacher and my total income doesn't add up to much more than fifteen dollars a week and before I met you I thought that was a princely sum." Dan words tumbled out in a rush, as if they couldn't leave his mouth fast enough.

"Fifteen dollars?" Blair could hardly suppress the shock in her voice. "Is that what people earn? How is that possible to live on?" She thought of her own generous allowance, many times the sum Dan mentioned, that she more often than not would exhaust even before the month was out, leaving her to dip into Dorota's housekeeping money rather than press Eleanor for more.

Dan gave a sigh and dropped his arms from where they encircled her waist, looking distantly over her shoulder. "It's possible to live on far less but not, I admit, in this city." He looked down at her, concern shadowing his eyes. "Blair, I have to tell you this, and I understand if this changes the way you feel about...about me."

She missed the warm pressure of his hands. "I don't understand what you are saying."

"Blair, you're not stupid, there's no reason for you to waste time with me, when there are so many other more worthy men who deserve your attentions."

"Dan..." Her voice shook a little and she cleared her throat to steady it. "Stop telling me what I should feel. Why should I care, I have enough money of my own? You can keep your 15 dollars."

He turned away, giving her a pang of abandonment. "I can't tell you what to feel, I can only tell you that it makes no sense. Why me? What have I got to offer you?"

"Why do you need to offer me things? Who should I want? Chuck? I'd rather enter a nunnery." She stepped forward, her eyes looking blindly over the ocean, the beauty of the moon losing all the pleasure it had held.

"Blair...I would offer you that moon if I could." Dan looked down at her, his expression guarded. "But there's never going to be a moment when I can give you what you deserve. And I don't think you understand the implications of what I'm saying.

It was hard to control the quiver of hurt in her voice. "I don't see what I have to understand. Why are you making trouble now, of all times?"

"I don't mean to make trouble. I only..."

Blair cut him short. "Is this your roundabout way of telling me that you don't wish to see me anymore?"

"No! You can't think that. I just...just want you to see who I really am."

"I thought I did already."

"Please, Blair, think about what I've said. Sleep on it if you will."

Blair's mouth dropped as she searched for a reply. It had been so long since she had considered Dan's status next to her own, she had forgotten how she had first seen him.

Serena approached them, breezily unaware of the tension between them. "Now, we must swap partners if we are to keep Eric entertained. Dan, you dance with me while Nate sits out."

Dan looked down at Blair, meeting her eyes as he spoke. "I'm sorry, Serena, I'm tired. I should go to bed."

He took Blair's hand to lay a fleeting kiss. "Dan, wait. I'll go with you."

"No, stay with your friends, Blair. I really am tired. Good night, I'll see you in the morning." He turned and left after taking his leave from the rest of the party, closing the door behind him as Blair sank down to sit on the wall, heedless of how the rough surface pulled at the silk of her gown.

Serena sat beside her. "Blair, I'm so sorry. I forget Dan is still convalescing. Of course, he shouldn't be dancing on terraces. But stay with me, the night is too beautiful to be going to bed. And I have the keys to Cece's cellar."

Blair shook her head. "No, I think I'll retire as well."

"I insist, B, you must at least give me one dance. Nate and Eric can sit it out," Serena giggled, "if they won't dance together."

Despite all of Serena's arguments, Blair only gave her friend one dance, refusing both Nate and Eric's pleas to stay and round out the company. Eventually she slipped away, leaving them in the midst of a debate of who's turn it was to descend to the cellar to collect the next bottle of champagne. She paused in the darkened corridor, a light still showing from under Dan's door, wanting to knock, to make him continue the interrupted conversation, but her feet led her past to her own room, unsure of what to say, how to tell him that his fears were unfounded.

Blair sat on her bed after changing into her pyjama's, too dispirited to remove her makeup or brush out her hair. This was not how she had foreseen the evening's outcome. Dan should be stealing her away to whisper impassioned nothings in her ear, rather than tormenting her with the knowledge of the differences in their circumstances.

It wasn't yet so late. Blair felt entirely awake but she ignored the reading on her bedside table and switched the lamp off, curling under her covers to block out the moonlight shining through the open curtains. It was no use though, sleep wouldn't claim her, Dan's words weighing heavily as she revisited them again and again. She wondered if he lay awake like her, wishing things unsaid, or if he slept oblivious on the other side of the few in number but far too solid walls that lay between them. The future was impossible to foresee but she why he couldn't see that it was meaningless, that they should reside in the present. Why care for a future you have no control over? Only she'd never envisaged the possibility that it didn't hold the marbled halls and moneyed security she had always foreseen. That it could hold a penniless writer instead, with an moral bent she could only hope to understand. It didn't bear thinking of, that her passions couldn't make her reality match accordingly.

Her whole being stilled at the sound at her door, so caught up in her thoughts she'd neglected the vigilance of her watch. The footsteps paused for a long moment and Blair held her breath, waiting for a knock or a soft click of the door handle. No such sound came, only the gentle creak of the floor boards as the cautious steps faded away. She sat up, pulling the covers from her head, the moon illuminating the room and the disappointingly unopened door. And the square of white that lay on the floor before it.

She unfolded the familiar notepaper with trembling fingers, not finding the contrite note she thought it contained.

_I would live in your pocket_

_And I'd ask for nothing more_

_For you could be in mine_

_And I would be yours_

_You could be my infinitum_

Blair looked in the mirror, taking a heavy breath of resolution. The satin, man-styled pyjamas she wore were chic but hardly alluring enough for her intentions, the open trunk surely held something more suitable. She rummaged carelessly until her fingers found the azure blue negligee she had hopefully bought the week before from Boué Soeurs and shucked off the pyjamas to slide the fine silk and lace over her head, tousling her hair as she surveyed herself. The transparency of the fabric made her avert her eyes, seeing the tips of her nipples and the suggestion of darkness between her thighs, slipping on the matching robe and to the door before her courage could fail her.

Her room lay in the family wing, Blair knew that only Cece and Serena resided in the same passage and, more, that her hostess wouldn't wake from her whisky sodden slumber and her friend wouldn't care, rather she would applaud her. Nonetheless she was cautious as she crept to Dan's room, feet padding over the carpet runner to muffle her steps. His light still burned, showing golden in the dimness of the passage, spilling wider as the door swung open under her touch.

The bed was empty, though the covers were as disturbed as her own. Dan instead sat at the small writing desk, head poured over his notebook, pen scratching furiously. The desk faced the window away from the door so he didn't turn at her entry, giving her ample opportunity to observe the breadth of his shoulders and how his bare back tapered so neatly to his waist. She stared for a long moment before speaking. "Dan?"

He looked up, distraction immediately clearing from his eyes. "Blair...you..you came to me."

"I couldn't sleep. I couldn't stop thinking...of you...of what you said." It was too late or too early for anything but honesty. She took a step further into the room, shutting the door behind her, defiantly returning his gaze even as she turned the key to secure the lock. "I know your scruples and...and I know your arguments and I don't want to hear them." The weight of her robe dropped straight to the floor and she stood in her negligee, feeling bare in the transparent silk, shivering as the fabric cooled against her skin. But his hot gaze burned as it raked a path up her body, finally resting on her face so that she could see reflected back all the desire that resided in her own soul. "Don't tell me to go."

Dan slowly shook his head and stood from his chair, feet closing the distance between them, lifting his finger to place over her mouth. It instinctively moved to shape a kiss and he traced the inside line of her lower lip. She bit down gently, refusing to let him withdraw it until the line of his thumb running over jaw made her close her eyes and drop her head back with the wish that this moment could go forever. The moment that she knows that getting what she wants is irrevocable.

His free hand began to languorously travel down her back, pressing her body into the curve of his own. The thin silk shifted beneath it's path, creasing into her skin, folding around the fingers she wanted to introduce to every part of her body. His dark head leaned to hers to catch her mouth, her own parting to welcome his feverish kiss, feeling a quiver through her limbs as his tongue slipped against hers. The firm muscles of his back shifting beneath her touch as she slid her hands higher over his smooth skin to press his face closer to hers, her fingers twisting into his curls. They stumbled together toward the bed neither inclined to disentangle themselves to make the path any easier.

Blair's lips moved against his neck as he pressed her back upon the twisted covers. "I don't care about what you say, if you're a prince or a pauper. I want you now." She felt his mouth on her breast, breath shuddering against her skin, fingers slipping the thin straps of her negligee from her shoulders to push the thin fabric down her body. His mouth traced it's path and she felt a tremor shake her hand as she shimmied her gown over her hips to leave her lying naked before him.

His touch was hesitant, she wanted to take his hand and guide it to where she most ached. But she waited breathlessly, trying to anticipate his movements, allowing him to surprise her, to tease her, with his tongue and his fingertips. She couldn't suppress the moan that rose to her lips when his fingers found what she most feared to lead him to. Her eyes shamelessly meeting his gaze as he explored her body, his dark eyes searching for what pleased her. She spread her legs further, revelling in her wantonness, her abandon in his touch.

The tremor in her loins grew more pronounced as his mouth dipped between legs. La petite mort, the little death, she had always wondered, but nothing had prepared her for the gaze of a dark eyed man and his artist's fingers. Her body bucked under his and she gasped, pleasure suffusing her, the reverent wonder flitting across his features making her writhe against the pillows.

His welcome kiss descended again and she panted against his mouth, his persistent lips pinning her. Damp fingers entwining in her hair as she breathed in the fecund smell of her sex upon them. She pushed back at him, her fingers sliding down the taut plain of his chest, trembling from the unfamiliar feelings that pulsed through her. They paused only when his mouth retraced a path to her neck and further to find the rosy peak of her nipple. "You are perfection, Blair. I never..."

"Shhh...I know." The rest of the words came on a gasp as his lips continued their pursuit. "Nor I."

She took the opportunity to slide her hand over his waist and under the band of his pyjama's, her fingers tracing the curve of his buttock. He raised his head, sliding back up her body so she could feel the movement of his words against her cheek. "Blair, look at me. Are you sure?"

There weren't enough words to answer the question, she just took his face between her hands as she nodded her head and pulled his lips to hers once more. He understood her intent, moving between her thighs, his face above hers, not close enough. The desire in her limbs translated to a confidence that ran her hands down his back and pushed his pyjamas over his hips, the muscle flexing against her palm as he held himself above her. Her teeth dug into her lower lip as she determinedly slipped her fingers around his body to feel the fascinatingly firm length that had pressed so against her thigh. Dan trembled as she took him in her hand, her eyes flickering to his, relishing the unfocussed intensity with which he gazed at her. The velvet skin of his penis so soft under her palm as it twitched for her touch. It was curious how he responded to her, the sound he made bringing a smile to her lips, her name, half strangled as he buried his face into her neck, pressing his hips further between her legs to slide against her. She spread her thighs further, all her reservations undone, welcoming the pressure of his hips, shifting her own to ease his passage.

It hurt, more than she had anticipated, her body's shock at his penetration making her tense and still, and he paused, almost withdrawing entirely. "Blair?" Her hands slipped to his hips, finding them pliant to the pressure she bore upon them and he slid back inside her, causing a gasp to be the only answer to leave her lips. But his proximity made her welcome the unfamiliarity, the sense of invasion. His mouth nipping at her lower lip and jaw as he moved against her. Overwhelming her in it's intimacy, in her delight at his absolute attention.

Instinct made her shift so her knees rested over his hips and a groan left her as he pressed further into her, watching the pleasure cross his face, his lips contort and his eyes flicker up as his lids closed. Filling her impossibly as he began to pulse within her. He pulled back, too soon to gratify her, a violent shudder taking him as she felt the warm liquid spray against her thigh.

He collapsed beside her. She felt some regret that he didn't just drop upon her, for her to feel his delicious weight push her further into the bed, missing the closeness of him already. But before she could put voice to her dissatisfaction he rolled into her, tugging her face to his in an open kiss, fingers skipping up to her cheeks, eyes almost black in the dim light. "You are the best thing that has ever happened to me."

She felt too overwrought to answer him, emotion pricking her eyes as she returned his kisses, allowing him to pull her to him as she indulged in the feel of his naked length against her. The ache between her legs, half tender, half desiring more attention, confusing her thoughts.

"You really shouldn't have come..."

She felt a twinge of frustration mar her languor and she dug her fingers further into his hair. "Enough with the talk, Humphrey. Put your mouth to better use."

Dan slid his fingers over her heated skin and pressed his lips to hers once more, words punctuated with kisses as he obliged her wish. "I just don't...know what I...did to deserve you."

"Clearly, outstanding moral conduct and a willingness to please." Her mouth curled as she felt the breath of his chuckle against it. "Dan? Stop thinking for once, can't you? Just lie here and hold me. Right now you're the richest man in the world. You have me."

Her words silenced him completely, instead he rolled her onto her back and took her cheeks between his palms, laying a series of kisses upon her, each one deeper than the previous. Only leaving off to pull the covers up and tuck the sheet to her chin. He left the bed to flick the lamp off, leaving her eyes to adjust to the darkness so she could watch the dark shadows move over his body as he climbed back in beside her and pulled her willing form against him once more.


End file.
